The Welshman
by gubernaculum
Summary: Ianto Jones knew that his luck couldn't last forever. (Eighth installment in a series)
1. Chapter 1

The strains of a resounding chorus of 'Happy Birthday' were echoing in the Torchwood boardroom as the team sang to their beloved archivist, Ianto Jones. Gwen, with her gap-toothed smile, was singing off key with Joseph Fischer, their technician. The three candles were sparkling and Miranda was smiling, but had anyone been looking her way, they'd see that that smile didn't reach her eyes. The cake, of course, had been Gwen's idea. Rhys had baked it himself. The idea of Gwen baking anything was, frankly, quite frightening.

Jack was standing behind Ianto, his arms wrapped around his lover's waist, his chin resting on his shoulder, smiling broadly. The two men weren't so overt in their displays of affection during work hours. Normally, the rare sight would have warmed the medic's heart. Today, she watched with a passive detachment, lost in her own thoughts.

She'd felt the immortal potential inside Ianto Jones when the two men had showed up unexpectedly at her home. It was the tiniest pressure behind her forehead and eyes. That immortal potential can only be awakened by the shock of a violent and unnatural death. She'd been with Torchwood for less than a month before she'd made the decision to allow Ianto's first death to occur naturally. The life of a Torchwood field agent was dangerous and painfully short. She'd assumed the young man would be inducted into the Game soon enough without any interference from her. She'd been wrong and that had been over five years ago.

Perhaps it was due to Jack's overprotectiveness when it came to his lover but Ianto seemed to have one close call after another. He always narrowly escaped danger, either on his own or because one of the immortals was there to stand in the way. When she'd returned to Torchwood, she hadn't thought the young Welshman's luck would last for so long. _Not so young anymore…_ It was well into September. Ianto Jones had been thirty for over a month. And now she found herself faced with a dilemma she had managed to avoid.

When she'd decided to wait, she'd added a single provision - Ianto's thirtieth birthday. Four years ago, she'd told herself that if Ianto managed to survive to the age of thirty, she would tell the Welshman about his latent immortality. She knew it would put him into an impossible position… to live a natural life or take matters into his own hands and join the Game. How did one choose? Miranda certainly had not, nor had any other immortal she'd ever encountered.

Now, Ianto's birthday had come and gone. Oddly enough, it was Jack who had given her a small reprieve. The Captain had arranged a seven day trip to Rome for him and his lover. She knew Ianto had always wanted to go but had never managed it. Jack had been practically skipping when he'd shown it all to Miranda for her opinion, the first class tickets, five star accommodations, the lengthly itinerary… In fact, Jack was so nervous, she'd wondered if the man was going to propose. The two of them had only just returned last week, looking more relaxed and well rested since they'd gone on holiday to the south of France two years ago. Miranda sincerely wondered if they'd ever left their hotel room. The cake they were all gathered around was belated.

A cyclic debate warring within her had her procrastinating. She continued to find one reason or another to remain silent and kept hoping that fate and Torchwood would make the decision for her. Even though she'd had over five years to come to a decision, she was still of two minds.

Normalcy was the reason she leaned towards staying silent. She'd had many mortal friends and lovers in her life and she would never have wished the curse of immortality upon any of them. Certainly a life inside Torchwood wasn't the most normal. Every single one of the Torchwood team struggled to hang on to some semblance of a normal life. But this argument had been losing ground lately.

Love was always the reason she leaned towards saying something. Unlike Miranda, Jack's immortality seemed to have no caveat, no proverbial stake through the heart or silver bullet. Jack could live forever. Even if inducted into the Game, Ianto would not. But as an immortal of the Game, he could live significantly longer than his mortal years. The lovers could have centuries, possibly millennia together.

She watched the two men carefully. They both had their heads tilted slightly, leaning against the other. Jack brought his hands up and rested them on Ianto's shoulders.

He kissed Ianto's ear and then said, "Make a wish Ianto…"

And there it was… the briefest shadow that passed through both their eyes before Ianto's smile widened and Jack's eyes shined brighter. The young man leaned over the cake and blew out the three candles.

"What'd you wish for?" Jack asked facetiously.

"If I told you, it wouldn't come true," Ianto said with a teasing eye roll.

The two men shared a smile and loving look. In that moment, they were alone, eyes focused only on each other.

_Tonight… I'll tell him tonight…_


	2. Chapter 2

That night the rift alarm had gone off.

_Tomorrow night… _was something she said to herself over and over again as the rift continued to interrupt her plans. Her more superstitious nature wanted to see it as a sign. The interruptions continued for weeks and in early October, Fish twisted his knee and was laid up, leaving the team shorthanded. Miranda held off, easily justifying the procrastination to herself. But when Fish returned to the team in late November, the rift predictor program, invented by Tosh and tweaked by Fish, showed a near week long hiatus of activity.

The predictor had been right, two days had gone by without so much as a blip and the Torchwood team had decided to call it an early night and head out to the pub together. They were still on their first round and Jack was in the middle of one of his barely believable stories. Everyone was listening with rapt attention, laughing at Jack's absurdity. That was when an unexpected rift alert had occurred.

Ianto went to pay their tab as everyone collected their coats and headed for the SUV. Jack was narrowing the area with his wrist strap while Gwen, Fish and Miranda were checking their guns. It was a moderate spike down in Penarth and twenty minutes later, they'd arrived at Alexandra Park. After they'd all gotten out of the SUV, Jack began tapping on his wrist strap.

"You all know the drill…" he said as he started walking towards the ruined gazebo.

Gwen, Fish and Ianto all followed Jack and Miranda several metres behind the two immortals. All their guns were drawn. There was a large furry heap on the grass. It looked like whatever it was had fallen out of the sky, hit the roof of the gazebo and crumpled to the ground. The physician inside Miranda wanted to rush forward and give aide but the Torchwood operative in her knew that this creature could be dangerous. While she and Jack took point as a matter of precaution to protect the mortal members of the team, if she died, she could protect no one while she waited to revive.

"Jack? Cover me?" she said as she holstered her gun.

"Be careful, Will…" he warned, as always.

The creature was about the size of a large breed dog. Instead of paws, there were sloth-like claws. It clearly was alien. The fur was dull yellow and green. Miranda knelt down beside it. It was laying on its side, unconscious. A cursory examination told her little but enough that when she felt along its back, whatever this creature had for a spine was broken. "It's back is broken, Jack. Do you recognise the species?"

He leaned over and shook his head. "Nope. Is it still alive?"

"Yes, it's breathing, though it's having trouble. Whether that's from its injuries or incompatibility with our atmosphere, I have no idea. I'm feeling what I think are vertebrae along what I think is a spine… here? I feel something not aligned properly… and there's a crunching… like broken bones."

Jack leaned forward and touched the soft fur. "Looks like it might be from one of the Rakaylik moons, but I don't think-" He stopped speaking when the creature let out a loud wail and its front legs flailed slightly.

Miranda stood up and took a step back at the noise and movement. "We should sedate it so I can do a more thorough exam. I don't know the physiology but risking a sedative is better than-"

The creature suddenly flailed, it's front impacting Miranda's legs, knocking her to the ground. It turned as if to attack and Jack fired his Webley, emptying the revolver into it. Instead of falling down and dying, the creature stood up on all fours, staggered and then fell. Jack didn't have time to wave the other's off. Gwen, Ianto and Fish were rushing forward to their teammates' aide when the creature flailed again and stood, circling in place, disoriented.

Suddenly, the creature crouched and leapt in a direction it appeared to chose at random… a direction that had Ianto Jones in its path. No one would have expected such a bulky and injured creature would have been able to leap so far, so fast. Ianto was nearly six metres away but he fell to the ground as the creature impacted his chest. He didn't even manage to get off a shot.

Panicked and disoriented, the creature flailed wildly, clawing at the man pinned beneath him. Aided by adrenaline, Ianto pushed the creature upwards as blood poured from its wounds, taking himself out of the line of fire. Gwen and Fish both emptied their guns into the creature and it finally rolled off of Ianto, dead. They were all at his side immediately shouting his name.

"I'm fine… just a few scratches," Ianto said as he stood up with Fish's help. His suit was a ruined mess, ripped and covered in the alien's blood. There was a look of revulsion on his face as he took in his own appearance, the alien's blood the same dark red colour as his own. "This suit was new…"

"I'll buy you another one…" Jack said as he turned away to help Fish lift the creature's corpse.

"This thing is lighter than it looks!" Fish called up to Jack, lifting the creature easily by himself. "Yeah, Evie, this'll be an interesting xenopsy for you. Can't weigh more than fifteen? Twenty kilos?"

"Less…" Jack said as he went to help Fish anyway. The Australian's knee still gave him trouble on occasion.

Gwen laughed and said, "Care to make a wager, Miranda? We could start a pool?"

The former PC was already at the SUV's boot, opening it for the two men, helping them. The alien may be light but it was bulky. Miranda had followed and was observing with a slight smile, chucking to herself. She turned around to ask Ianto what his guess was… only to see him laying face down on the grass.

"IFAN!? JACK!" Miranda shrieked, sprinting towards her fallen friend, sliding on her knees over the grass to his side. When she rolled him over, the sleeve of his suit felt odd, like it was filled with water. Using the dagger from her boot, she slit the cloth up to his shoulder. A gush of blood came from the sleeve, like a popped water balloon. There was a deep gash to his upper arm. The wound, now free from the confines of the cloth, spurted blood up and across her face with each beat of Ianto's heart. Sitting up, she removed her belt, tying it tightly above the wound. The spurting slowed to a trickle.

By then, the rest of the team was at her side. Jack seized Ianto under his arms, careful not to dislodge the belt, while Fish lifted under his knees. Gwen ran in front of them, opening the door and helping them load Ianto into the back seat. Jack got behind the wheel and floored the pedal.

"Which hospital is closest, Will?" he asked, panic in his voice.

But Miranda wasn't listening to him. She was taking vital signs and examining Ianto with the SUV's portable medical equipment. Once she'd scanned the readout, she closed her eyes and said, "Not the A&E, Jack… take us back to the Hub."

"What?!" Jack roared.

"The Hub, Jack!" she shouted back.

Everyone in the SUV started speaking at once in objection.

"I SAID THE HUB!" she repeated thunderously.


	3. Chapter 3

"Quickly, Jack, Fish!" Miranda said as the two men laid a barely conscious Ianto Jones onto the autopsy table. She'd known Ianto's condition was grave the minute she'd seen the display. _If I'd noticed earlier…_ There had been no way to tell that the blood of the alien creature from Ianto's own and the adrenaline had kept the young Welshman on his feet and talking. They'd all assumed he was fine. She'd assumed he was fine. Now, it was likely too late. The young man was still bleeding heavily. She used a heavy pair of scissors to cut off Ianto's clothing.

"Be still, Ifan," she said as he tried to pull away from her. He'd regained a measure of consciousness in the ride back to the Hub thanks to a large bolus of fluid on the way.

Gwen was setting up more fluids and Jack was pulling blood out of the bay's refrigerator. Fish was dragging over the scanners and monitors and flipping on each piece of equipment. Once she'd gotten his suit jacket and shirt off, Miranda could clearly see the numerous gashes across his torso. They weren't deep enough to have severed any of the major vessels but they were bleeding as if they had. The major wound was to his left arm. In better light, Miranda could see it more clearly. The slice was to the bone. _It's severed the cephalic vein… the brachial artery… possible nerve damage…_ It would require major surgery to correct and Ianto would never regain full use of the limb. Gwen finished setting up the fluids and they were running into him. Just as she finished evaluating the wound more closely, Fish finished setting up the equipment. The alarms immediately started blaring. The purple indicator light began flashing wildly. _Poison!_

"Jack, put pressure here and here! Gwen! Hand me the cautery from the top drawer. It looks like a thick white pen. Quickly!"

Ianto screamed and started to struggle.

"Jack! Fish! Hold him!"

The blood was flowing strangely. It was thick and hot. She cast a quick glance at Ianto's face. It wasn't the face of a man who should be in hypovolemic shock. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were darting about wildly. Those blue-grey eyes found what they were looking for and locked with Jack's. Miranda knew the look that was passing between the two lovers. _Goodbye… _

His jaw was clenched and the words were slightly slurred but everyone froze when they heard them. "I love you, Jack…"

"Don't!" Jack said, rushing forward, cupping his lover's face.

Ianto's eyes started to glaze over.

Jack seized Ianto's shoulders and shook him harshly, tears flowing freely. "Ianto! Ianto? Ianto, stay with me. Ianto, stay with me, please! Stay with me!"

He opened his eyes and tried to speak but only Jack seemed close enough to hear what he said.

"Never could… Yes, I will. I promise I will," Jack said through a blur of tears.

His lover's head drooped back and Jack broke.

"Ianto! Ianto! Don't go! Don't leave me, please! Don't!"

Everyone sprang back into action. Miranda was reaching into the cabinet for the antidote kits. _Perhaps if I can isolate the poison quickly…_ She knew it was well past the point where she should just let Ianto go but she felt like she had to keep trying.

"Here, Miranda!" Gwen produced the cautery but before Miranda could take it from her, Ianto began convulsing.

She let out a stream of ancient obscenities. "Hold his shoulders, Jack! Fish, his legs as best you can!" She ran for the drugs cupboard, pulling out the valium. Finding the injection port quickly, she blasted the syringe's contents into the line and Ianto stilled.

"What did you give him?" Jack demanded, panicked.

"Something to stop the seizure." She scooped some of the blood from Ianto's wounds into the antidote kit. It whirred and beeped as it processed the sample. She turned to Ianto again, running hands over his face and body. Bruises and pinpoint haemorrhages were appearing on his skin. _He's not clotting! Goddess below, he's burning up!_ "He's too hot. Fish! The cooling blanket from the cupboard. Jack, the plasma in the med fridge, get it! We need to-" the monitor up on the screen that showed Ianto's heartbeat had become irregular and slow. "Gwen? The epinephrine, the purple syringe, some atropine, the green…"

Gwen swiftly grabbed the medication, blasting the syringes' contents into Ianto. Miranda stared intently at the screen for a few tense seconds that seemed to drag on for hours. A few normal beats appeared but before Miranda's relief could register, the irregular rhythm returned. "Grab the defibrillator! Now!"

Tears streaming down his face, Jack wheeled the piece of equipment over, handing her the paddles. Gwen and Fish had already slid the backboard under Ianto.

"Step away, Fish, Gwen!" she put the paddles onto Ianto's chest and pressed the buttons, shocking Ianto's heart and causing his body to jerk. The rhythm didn't correct itself. She shocked him again, knowing it was futile, the readout was become more erratic. She swore loudly. "Gwen, another round of drugs… Good, step away!"

She attempted to shock Ianto's heart again to no effect. The irregular rhythm stopped and the wavy line flattened. The monitor's blaring alarm turned into a single monotone, the only sound heard in the autopsy bay. She could try more drugs and continue but there was no point. _Asystole… He's finished, _Miranda said to herself. She looked up at the clock, noting the time. She wiped the sweat from her brow and then lowered her arms. Jack rushed over to her and tried to rip the paddles from her.

"No! Jack! It's done! There's nothing to shock!" she cried.

"No!" He tried for the paddles again, but Miranda was stronger.

"Leave him be. He's dead, Jack!" _For now… _

The older man threw himself across Ianto's chest, sobbing. Gwen had sunk to the floor also sobbing. Fish seemed stunned beyond tears, standing with the cooling blanket in his white knuckled grasp, his shoulders trembling slightly. Ianto had been over ten years his junior. She allowed them a moment. They didn't know that Ianto would revive in a matter of hours and even though she did, she still felt tears prickling at her eyes. After a few minutes passed, she knew she had waited long enough. It was time to come clean. She scrubbed at her face roughly, wiping the tears away.

"Jack we need to-"

He rounded on her with fury. "You are not cutting him up!"

"Please, Jack," she said soothingly. "We need to clean him up-"

"I'll do it. Get out." He manically started tossing the used medical supplies into the trash.

"Jack, stop! Jack!" He was ignoring her. _Shock. Denial. Only one thing for it_. She turned Jack to face her and punched him square in the jaw. He went sprawling to the floor.

Gwen and Fish surged forward. They both grabbed Miranda's arms.

"Miranda! For God's sake!" Gwen screamed through tears.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Evie!" Fish shouted simultaneously.

"Silence, all of you! Listen to me!" her voice boomed, shaking them off. When they'd all quieted down, she lowered her voice. "Ianto is immortal. He will revive in several hours."

Her other team members stared at Ianto's still form, mouths agape. Fish's knees even gave way and he sank down to the tile.

Gwen's voice whispered, "Oh my God…"

Jack looked up at her dumbfounded for a moment before his face twisted in angry curiosity. The Captain's eyes were hooded and dark. There was no mistaking the accusation in his voice. "How long have you known, Will?"

_Here it comes_. "Since the two of you came to Caernarfon."

It was Jack's turn to throw a punch. He caught the small woman square in the cheek with so much force, Miranda felt her cheekbone snap and her mouth fill with blood. There was something hard floating in the metallic taste… her tooth. She staggered backwards, grabbing the metal railing to stop herself from falling. She brought her hand up to her face, it came away slick with blood. After she stood up, she spat onto the floor then rounded on Jack. The tooth plinked along the tile. Miranda felt the tingling sensation in her gum as the tooth regrew itself and the itching on her face as the wound and broken bone healed.

"Goddess below! What would you have had me say, Jack!? One doesn't intercede with destiny! You're a fool if you didn't believe this was inevitable!" she yelled waving at Ianto's immobile form.

"I had no idea he was-" Jack started angrily.

"No, but you always knew Torchwood would be the death of him!" she snapped. Miranda needed to get rid of all of them. She needed to explain things to Ianto alone. "Gwen, go down into the bunker and get some clean clothes for Ifan, something comfortable."

The other woman left without a word, looking dazed and stunned.

"I didn't want this for him," Jack said and let out a soft sob.

"Neither here nor there, Jack," she said, putting a hand on the younger immortal's shoulder, lowering her voice so only he could hear her. "You know what reviving is like… the pain… the disorientation. We need to get him cleaned up and somewhere familiar."

Jack nodded.

Gwen came back holding a pair of tracksuit bottoms and one of Jack's white t-shirts. Jack was busying himself with Ianto, not looking at her.

Miranda guided Gwen out into the main Hub. "Gwen? Go home. Jack and I will take care of him. He's going to need time to come to terms with all this and that is best done alone."

"He's my friend too!" she said hotly.

"Yes, and he'll need you a great deal over the next few weeks. This will be a harsh adjustment for him. Don't come in tomorrow, we need to give him some space."

Gwen immediately began sobbing. Miranda pulled the other woman into a tight hug. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, she let her go once Gwen had calmed down. "Go home to Rhys and get some rest. Take one of the sedatives I prescribed. Come in the day after tomorrow."

She nodded, picked up her purse and headed for the cog wheel door. Just as the proximity alarms went off, Miranda walked back down into the autopsy bay. Jack and Fish were clearing away the medical supplies.

"Fish? You too. Go home to Henry."

"Did he know about this too?" Fish asked.

Miranda looked guilty. "I asked him not to say anything, Fish. Don't hold it against him, please."

Fish nodded, numbly. "That thing. The body's still in the SUV. I'll take care of it."

"When you're done? Go home. Don't come in tomorrow, spend the day with Henry."

The Australian nodded and then walked off towards the Hub's garage looking dazed.

She and Jack went to work, cleaning all the medical supplies away and cutting the rest of the clothes from Ianto's body. Miranda used her fingers to probe the deep wound in his arm and gashes along his chest and side. The edges had already begun to seal themselves. The bruising that had appeared earlier was already gone. _Death by alien mauling should be violent enough._ She and Jack began making quick work of wiping Ianto clean. They dressed him in the clothes Gwen had brought up and moved him into Jack's office, laying him down on the sofa.

The two immortals began a vigil by Ianto's side interrupted only when Fish leaned into the office doorway to say he was leaving. The two waited long into the night and through the dawn. When the wounds had nearly closed completely, Miranda turned to Jack and gestured for him to follow her out into the main Hub. "I need you to get out of here for a little while, Jack."

"I'm not leaving him!" Jack declared.

"Jack, please," Miranda said, trying to keep her voice as soothing as possible. "I need to speak to him alone."

"I should be the one telling him!"

"Absolutely not, Jack!" Miranda exclaimed. "What will happen if he revives and sees you?"

The proverbial light bulb went off over Jack's head and he started to look small and tired. "He'll think that I've done something to him."

"Exactly. He won't believe that he's joined the Game. He'll only think that you were mad with grief and did something unnatural to him."

"Like Owen," Jack whispered.

"Go on, give me two hours and then come back, please, Jack?" she said, softly.

"Two hours, Will." And then he was gone in a swirl of greatcoat.

By the time Miranda returned to Ianto's bedside, the wounds had completely closed. She was sitting in the small chair opposite Jack's desk, watching Ianto's still form carefully. _Any minute now…_ she thought looking at her fob watch but nearly fifteen minutes had passed and Ianto had yet to revive. _He's taking longer than I thought. The venom must have been strong._ She continued to wait.

Suddenly, there was a sharp intake of breath and Ianto convulsed and screamed. He started to flail wildly. Miranda rushed to his side, grabbed his shoulders and shouted right in his face. "Ifan! It's all right! I've got you! You're safe! Ifan, breathe!"

Ianto's eyes flew open, darting around the room wildly, his face was twisted in agony, terror and panic. He let out another scream, his hands white knuckled on Miranda's arms.

"I know it hurts. The pain will pass quickly." She watched as his face began to relax and his breathing evened out. "Breathe through it. There. Everything is all right. You're safe."

"Mandy? What…? Where…. Where's Jack?" he said, blinking at her. He looked down at himself, running his hand over his chest. Panic overtook him. "What happened?! The creature… Jack!? The others?!"

"Ifan, they're fine," she said soothingly. She squared her shoulders before continuing. "You were severely injured. You'd lost a great deal of blood by the time we got you back to the Hub. The beast's claws were venomous. We tried everything. There was nothing I could do. You died."

"Jack didn't find another one of those bloody gloves did he?!" Ianto shouted in panic and looking around the room.

"No, there was nothing like that," she said. She'd been right, his mind had leapt straight to what had happened to Owen Harper. She let out a sigh and looked him in the eyes and spoke slowly so he did not mistake what she was saying, "Ianto Jones… welcome to the Game."

"No. It's not possible. I can't be… I can't…" He got up abruptly and started pacing the office and then sank to the floor. "It's not… No. No… No, no, no…"

Miranda laid a comforting hand on his shoulder but Ianto recoiled from her touch.

"Where's Jack?" he asked, his voice ringing with accusation.

"I sent him away so that I could talk to you."

"Leave me alone," he interrupted, pointing at the closed office door. "Get out."

"Ifan-"

"Fuck you! You're lying!" he shouted, rounding on her and grabbing her by the shoulders, pushing her into the wall and pinning her there. "What have you done to me?!"

_Enough of this twaddle. _With a snarl, she grabbed his arms, turning the tables, and slammed him into the door. She'd never shown him her full strength before but if ever there was a time for a bit of dramatic flare, it was now. She pressed her forearm into his throat. He tried to struggle but she held him firmly in place.

"Take your hands off me!" he tried to shout but her arm pressed across his throat made it come out a garbled mess.

She let out another snarl, lifting him off the ground slightly so his toes barely scraped the concrete floor. Ianto wasn't a small man and the fact that she lifted him with such ease shocked him into stillness. Her forearm pressed harder into his windpipe. He struggled for breath, his face turning beet red from the effort.

"You. Are. Immortal," she said, angrily. She pressed on his throat hard enough to cut off his breath for emphasis. "Do not make me kill you to prove my point."

She released him as quickly as she had trapped him. He fell to the floor coughing and sucking in lungfuls of air.

"How long have you known?" he demanded between coughs.

"Since you and Jack showed up at the house," she said.

Ianto leapt up, his right fist flying through the air. The sudden fury of the outburst caught Miranda completely off guard. The punch landed on her face nearly exactly where Jack's blow had and she felt her cheekbone snap again. Again, as her mouth filled with blood, she felt something hard floating in the blood… this time it was three somethings. Her eyes watered at pain from the raw exposed nerves of the teeth. She staggered backwards, her back to the door. She turned her head to the side and spat out the teeth and blood. She resisted the urge to rub at her jaw when she felt the pieces of the teeth being forced out as new ones regrew. The itch in her face intensified, Ianto had broken her cheekbone more thoroughly.

"FUCK YOU!" Ianto screamed. "YOU'VE KNOWN ALL THIS TIME?! FIVE YEARS, MANDY!"

He charged at her, his fist raised again and Miranda raised her hands to block her face. Ianto saw the blood seeping from the corners of her mouth and the bruise already fading. He lowered his fist and took a few steps back. He took a few breaths to calm the anger. Miranda spat onto the floor again, the old teeth and blood.

"What would you have done had I told you, if you'd known this was possible?" she said slowly.

The questions marinated in Ianto's mind. He would never have known what to do. Even now and even though it was moot, his mind was flip flopping wildly from trying to live as long a mortal life as possible to putting a gun under his chin and pulling the trigger. Ianto sank down to the floor again, shaking his head.

He spoke softly, sounding like a small boy, "What do I do now?"

"You're going to get up off this cold floor, go downstairs and take a very hot shower."

"That's not what I meant, Mandy."

She sat back on her heels. "We can discuss that later, when you're more settled…" she trailed off at the look he was giving her and sighed. "We'll begin your training as soon as possible, tomorrow morning. For now, I'd prefer you not leave the Hub alone and to have me accompany you when you do."

Ianto nodded mutely. He reached up and ran his fingertips down her face. "I'm sorry, Mandy."

"Don't be," she said.

She leaned forward, remembering all the times Ianto had been there for her. It was her turn now. Or more precisely, it was his turn to finally let someone take care of him. She kissed his forehead and then whispered in his ear. "Go on, have a nice hot shower. It'll make you feel better. I'll be here. I'm not going anywhere."


	4. Chapter 4

After Miranda had left him alone, Ianto had numbly climbed the ladder down to the bunker. He'd stood in the middle of the cramped room, gazing around. The bed was a rumpled mess. A pair of Jack's braces was draped on top of the dresser. One of Jack's socks was laying on the floor next to the clothes hamper. A book was opened upside-down on Ianto's bedside table. There were scattered coins and other random items strewn across Jack's bedside table. It was all so normal. Everything just as the two men had left it that morning. _But so much has changed…_

He walked into the small washroom and leaned heavily on the vanity, his head hung over the sink. He turned on the tap and splashed some water onto his face. Rivulets of water ran down his cheeks as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. He looked almost exactly the same as he had a few hours ago. _And I always will… _The thought sent rage surging through his chest. He started tearing at the clothes on his body, yanking them off so hard he ripped the t-shirt and the pyjama bottoms. He stuffed them into the bin and stood up, looking at his naked reflection in the mirror, his breath coming in deep pants as a torrent of emotions swirled in his head. All the scars he had accumulated in the whole of his life were gone. The only thing that remained was the small tattoo by his hip, the number 805 - a memorial to Canary Wharf. The bumpy ragged scar left by a Weevil on his shoulder had vanished, the skin soft and smooth. The long thin line left by a blowfish's knife was gone from his side. The childhood scar on his leg, a fall from his bike into some rocks was also gone. It was as if his entire life had been erased.

Rage bubbled up through him. He balled up his fist and rammed it into the mirror, sending glass shards everywhere. He opened his fist, his hand trembling from pain, a pain that was quickly receding. Blood dripped onto the shattered glass in the sink. Ianto plucked a few shards of broken glass from his knuckles and turned on the tap, putting his bloodied hand underneath the water. As if by magic, the pain vanished and he watched the the cuts seal themselves. He stared in wonderment at the skin and fought back angry tears.

He picked up a large piece of broken mirror and dug it into his forearm with a shout. The blood spurted for a few seconds and then immediately slowed. Again, over the next minute, the deep gouge in his arm sealed itself. He threw the piece of glass into the sink, shattering it further and then sank to the washroom floor, sobbing.

He wasn't even aware of the fact that Miranda had come down the ladder. He barely felt her arms circle around his shoulders as she whispered calming words in Welsh as he sobbed. His whole life had been a lie. His family. His sister. Now what was he? Like water cupped in a hand, his humanity had slipped away. What would become of him? Jack… what would happen to him and Jack? The maelstrom of emotions, thoughts and questions churned through his mind. He couldn't possibly sort through them all. Overwhelmed, he continued to sob in Miranda's arms.

Once he'd quieted, she pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and stood. She crossed to the shower stall and turned on the water, adjusting the temperature. She helped him into the stall, checking the bottoms of his feet for broken glass.

"I'm going to clean all this up and go upstairs and wait for Jack." She reached her hand into the stall and caressed his cheek. "It's going to be okay."

He nodded mutely. While he showered, he heard the sounds of the glass being swept up and disposed of. By the time he stepped out of the shower, the broken mirror had been removed and no trace of the glass or blood could be found. He dried off quickly and wrapped the towel around his waist.

Miranda had fresh clothes for him, draped across the bed - a pair of pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt. The immortal woman probably hadn't realised it was Jack's. After he'd dressed, Ianto sank down onto Jack's side of the bed heavily. The shower had helped to calm and clear his mind. Small pieces of confusion and oddities from the past few years began to come into focus. Miranda had always displayed such a keen interest in his hand to hand combat training and now he knew why. She'd always been more protective of Fish and Gwen on field missions but usually insisted that she be paired with him. Often, Miranda would pass on words of advice about immortality. Ianto used to think it was to give him insight into Jack.

_Jack…_

With a sigh, he stood up and began to tidy the bunker, finding comfort in the routine. He scooped up the coins scattered on Jack's bedside table and dropped them into the tin on the dresser. He rolled up Jack's red braces and put them back into the drawer. Finally, Ianto stooped down to pick up Jack's dirty sock next to the clothes hamper with a slight smile. It was a source of lighthearted banter between him and his lover and something he teased Jack about relentlessly. Jack would take off his socks at the end of the day sitting on the bed, tossing them both towards the hamper at the same time. One sock would land in the hamper and sometimes the other would fall just beside it. Ianto would leave it, insisting that Jack had to pick it up himself. There it would lay until one of the men did the laundry. He stood turning the sock over in his hands, staring at it. As if making the most absurd decision of his life, he dropped the sock back onto the floor. Ianto didn't want anything to change here. He would never pick up that sock, Jack would have to do it himself.

The two men had always know that Torchwood would lead Ianto to an early grave and that the Welshman was on borrowed time. They'd always tried to make the most of it. Ianto closed his eyes, remembering how Jack had presented him with his thirtieth birthday present in the privacy of the bunker. The first class tickets to Rome had surprised and thrilled him. Even though he knew Jack could easily afford it, he'd teased his lover that it was too much.

The minute he'd seen the luxurious hotel and romantic suite, his stomach had clenched into knots. Did Jack have something special planned? Ianto had felt nerves dancing in his stomach through the entire holiday. There had been dozens of moments that would have been perfect for some sort of proposal but no proposal had been made. Ianto had been relaxed and rested when they'd returned to Cardiff but a little crestfallen. He'd scolded himself for it after he'd thought about it. Jack would never propose to him. Jack, as always, would let Ianto take the lead. So he had.

Ianto crossed the bunker and sat down on his side of the bed. He bent down, opening his bedside table drawer. He took out a small cardboard jewelry box. As if Rome hadn't been enough, Jack had presented Ianto with a beautiful pair of onyx cufflinks. The cufflinks were in their shared jewelry box on the dresser but Ianto had kept the original box. Jack was notoriously nosy but Ianto knew his lover wouldn't snoop inside a box if he already thought he was familiar with the contents. With a slight quickening of his heart, Ianto opened the box to stare at the matching rings within.

He had purchased them after they'd returned from Rome, two tungsten carbide rings inlaid with a narrow band of gold. The jeweler had insisted the tungsten carbide metal, while inexpensive, was the strongest and most durable available and would last for more than a lifetime. He ran his fingers over the brushed metal.

Ianto Jones never did anything impulsively. He had planned everything out. The first step in the process was to make sure that Jack existed on paper and for that, he'd needed Joseph Fischer. Fish had barely been able to contain his elation when Ianto had asked for his help. It'd taken the two men weeks to sort Jack's identity. After that, Ianto had thought long and hard about the proposal itself. He'd decided on the abandoned warehouse where the they had caught Myfanwy together. The location decided, Ianto had only to figure out the details.

But now this. What would he do now? It was one thing to ask Jack to marry him when they had only a few short years together but now? Centuries? Millennia? How could he ask Jack to bind their lives together for so long? How could he tie someone like Jack Harkness down like that?

Choking back tears, Ianto looked around the bunker again and then back down at the rings. How could anything remain the same between them? Ianto felt his heart sink as he thought of enduring the years ahead alone… _Without Jack…_ How could he face the possibility of eternity without the man he'd come to love so much? He shut the box with a dull clack and tossed it back into the drawer as tears started to stream down his face.


	5. Chapter 5

Miranda put her fob watch back into her pocket, twisting in Gwen's desk chair to release some nervous energy. She hadn't expected Ianto to take the news of his immortality well but she hadn't expected it to be this bad. Miranda gave a passing thought to taking Ianto off duty for a week or two but dismissed it. He'd be furious with her and settling into his routine would help him adjust.

She had another hour before Jack returned and there were a number of details to work out. The first was waiting up for her on the Plass. With a sigh, she got up out of the chair and walked towards the invisible lift and took it up to the Plass. From the safety of its perception filter, she turned, looking around for Kiernan. It didn't take her long to spot him, sitting on a bench, smoking a cigarette. She quirked an eyebrow. She'd never known Kiernan to smoke. She hopped off the lift and walked towards him.

"Morning, Kiernan," she said.

He jumped a little and turned around, dropping the cigarette and stamping it out with his trainer. "Christ, Mao-Lin!"

"Smoking now are we?"

"Yeah, well, bad habits…" Kiernan said. "Please don't lecture me."

"Stop smoking, end of lecture," Miranda said. "We need to talk."

Kiernan made to stand up so they could move to the invisible lift. At first the two had used the lift to conceal their friendly association but they had stopped bothering years ago. Now they only used the perception filter when they didn't wish to be overheard. It wasn't necessary this time.

"No need for the perception filter. This won't take long."

"What's going on, Mao-Lin?" Kiernan asked, curious.

"Ianto Jones is in play," Miranda looked down at her feet.

"When?" Kiernan said, animatedly, fumbling his mobile from his pocket.

"Last night. Time of first death was approximately one twenty in the morning. Time of first revival was approximately nine thirty."

"Cause of death?" Kiernan asked.

"Officially? Exsanguination due to a knife wound should be fine for your report," Miranda said. "Unofficially? He was mauled by an alien creature with poisonous claws."

"You know, we don't have first death information for you, Mao-Lin," Kiernan noted.

"That's right, Kiernan, you don't," Miranda said with a small chill in her voice.

"Throw me a bone here!" Kiernan exclaimed.

"I am. I'm giving you Ianto's first death information," she said. "Let me know the minute someone is assigned to him."

"I'm assigned to him," Kiernan said without missing a beat.

"You? You can't watch the both of us," Miranda said.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Kiernan said with an eye roll. "You and Ianto both live and work in the same place. Cardiff is a small city, Mao-Lin. The higher ups aren't going to want two Watchers standing out on the Plass all day which is pretty much what I do and I don't think Harkness is going to want two people in the know about Torchwood."

"He's just glad that you lot have closed the file on him," Miranda said.

"Well, when he fathered a daughter that was pretty much a giant sign that he wasn't the kind of immortal we're interested in," Kiernan said. He didn't want to mention that Jack still had a file in the Watcher archives. They'd stopped actively watching the immortal man but they were still interested in him. "Thanks for the information, Mao-Lin."

"You're welcome, Kiernan," she said and then sighed. "I need you to set up a meeting for me with Rosen and Connolly on holy ground as soon as possible."

Jacob Rosen and Oren Connolly were the two other immortals living and working in Cardiff. Miranda had only met the two men once and she had no contact information for them. It was another detail to be addressed. She needed to meet with them now to seek amnesty for Ianto as her student. She could use Torchwood's resources to track the two immortal men down, but when Miranda had first encountered them and learned that they were Cardiff residents, she had given her word that she would arrange meetings through a third party and would not contact them directly.

"I can't do that, Mao-Lin," Kiernan said with a shake of his head.

The Watchers were aware that some immortals knew about their existence and they were also aware that Miranda had a quasi friendship with Kiernan but that friendship was highly frowned upon. Miranda knew that the only reason the Watchers stood for it was Miranda's reputation of integrity and personal honour. Arranging this meeting could easily be seen by Kiernan's superiors as an attempt at deception on her part and Kiernan would have to be discrete. Miranda had expected resistance but Kiernan had already given her the means by which she could gain his cooperation.

"Set the meeting up for me and I'll give you my first death information," she said.

"For the official record? Or do you want me to keep it out of your chronicle?" Kiernan asked.

Miranda just stared at him.

"I would do that for you, you know," Kiernan said, looking shy and awkward. "I studied Near Eastern history at university. I researched your chronicle for five years before they assigned me to you. You were the only assignment I wanted when I started in the field - Chen Mao-Lin, courtesan to the Emperor Qin Shi Huang, the emperor that unified China."

He was trying to flatter her and it wasn't working. Chen Mao-Lin was an alias. She hadn't even been in China when Qin Shi Huang was Emperor. She had been halfway across the world, in Ancient Rome. The real Chen Mao-Lin had been an immortal woman and had been a courtesan to the emperor. When she'd returned to China in the twelfth century, Miranda had assumed her identity… after she had taken the woman's head. She just continued to stare at Kiernan with no intention of telling him the truth.

"Listen, I know it's not all about the official record. I just want the truth, Mao-Lin," he said. "I joined the Watchers because I love history and that's what your kind are, living history. I want your story, the real one."

"What you choose to put into my official chronicle is your choice, Kiernan," Miranda said and turned back towards the lift.

"I'll set up the meeting for you," he called after her.

"Thank you," she said, stopping and turning to him slightly. "Text me when you know. I would prefer to meet them both at the same time rather than separately."

"Right," Kiernan said as he typed furiously into his phone. "Thanks, Mao-Lin. I'll let you know."

She left Kiernan up on the Plass and headed back down into the Hub. She waited. She thought about checking on Ianto again but decided it was best to leave him be. She started to go through as much of Ianto's morning routine as she could. She fed Janet and the other resident Weevils. She fed Myfanwy and Dewi. The Hub was mostly clean so there wasn't much tidying to do. Just as she was finishing up, the invisible lift activated again. Jack was early.

Jack stepped off the paving stone, his hair looking windswept. He immediately made for his office but Miranda intercepted him, snagging his arm and standing in his path. He tried to push past her but she planted her hands firmly on his chest and shoved him.

"I know he's awake. Get out of my way, Will," Jack snapped as he tried to push past her again.

"Jack, stop!" Miranda said, shoving him again, this time putting more force behind the shove.

He raised his fist but stopped short.

"Go ahead, Jack, if it'll make you feel better," she said.

Jack took a step back and lowered his hand. "I'm sorry, Will."

"Don't be, Jack. This is difficult for all of us," she said sadly. "He's not taking this well."

Worry etched on Jack's face and he stepped towards the office again.

"Stop, Jack! Wait!" Miranda said. "You need to calm down. I know your first instinct is to rush in and do something but you need to give him some space."

Jack stood there with his hands on his hips, his head down.

"This has turned his whole world upside down and he's not taking it well at all. You know how he is, Jack. Right now he's thinking about everyone but himself and most of all he's worried about you."

"Me?" Jack said, shocked.

"Yes, Jack, you. More specifically how all this is going to effect you and him."

"I still love him, Will. Nothing is ever going to change that," Jack snapped.

"I know that Jack and deep down, so does he but he's not thinking straight right now. All he's worried about is that this is going to change things for the two of you. You need to reassure him that isn't going to happen. You need to back the fuck off of him."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I know you, Jack. You're going to smother him. You're going to treat him like he's made of glass and that's going to make him think you're softening the blow before you leave him."

"I would never-"

"I know that, Jack but right now? He thinks that everything is backwards so everything needs to stay as it was. We can't treat him any differently but we do need to make some changes around here."

"I was already going to take him off duty-"

"And that is exactly what I'm taking about," Miranda snapped pointing her finger at him. "The smothering and treating him like glass. Tomorrow, Ianto will resume his duties here as usual but I'd like to lighten his load a little."

"What about his protection?" Jack asked, fearful.

"For now, I would prefer him to not to leave the Hub without me," Miranda said. "Short trips to get lunch or run errands are fine. London is off-limits as is any other major city."

Jack went to open his mouth but Miranda interrupted him, "I know what you're thinking, Jack. You will not put him on desk duty. I will do all his field calls with him. Go on, go to him. His training starts tomorrow morning."


	6. Chapter 6

Ianto was still sitting on the bed, staring down at his bare feet when he heard Jack's boots on the ladder. He closed his eyes, he didn't think he was ready for this conversation. He heard the sound of Jack unsnapping his braces and tossing them into the hamper. He felt the dip of the bed as Jack sat down and then bent to unlace his boots. Automatically, Ianto's head lifted so he could watch Jack's socks fly across the room. One of them landed in the hamper, the other hit the rim and fell to the floor next to the other discarded sock. Ianto felt another dip in the bed as Jack stood up. Out of the corner of his eye, Ianto watched Jack bend down, scoop the two socks up off the floor and drop them into the hamper. He felt a fist around his heart as his eyes flicked down to his bedside table drawer. _Everything is different…_

Jack sat down next to him on the bed and wrapped his arms around his lover, burying his face in Ianto's neck. Ianto could tell Jack was holding back tears and Ianto was holding back his own.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to stay with you. Will wanted me to give you some space," Jack said.

"Why did you do it?" he whispered.

"She wanted to talk to you alone-"

"No, the socks," Ianto said waving towards the hamper.

"What?" Jack lifted his head to stare at his lover.

Ianto stood up and walked over to the hamper, tilting it to face Jack. "This. Your socks. You always just leave them there. Why did you pick them up this time?"

"You've been on me for years to pick them up and you're mad that I've finally started?" Jack said, shocked.

Ianto stood there, staring into the hamper, shaking his head.

"Yan, please, I don't want to fight," Jack said. He didn't know what he was doing wrong. Ianto's mind was darting everywhere. "I'm sorry I wasn't there when you woke up, you've always been there for me. I wanted to be there with you."

"You wanted…" Ianto said and scoffed and then started to yell. "It's all about how this is making you feel, isn't it Jack? I fucking died, Jack! I died! I used my dying breath to tell you I loved you and you said 'don't'!"

"It felt like goodbye," Jack said, the tears welling up had finally began to fall. "It felt like goodbye and I didn't want it to be."

"It was goodbye, Jack! The last thing I wanted to hear was your voice telling me that you loved me!" Ianto shouted.

"I'm sorry, Ianto…" Jack moved to embrace him again and Ianto slapped his arms away.

"Get the fuck away from me, Jack," Ianto said. He pushed back his anger. He was hitting Jack way below the belt and he knew it. He wasn't mad at Jack for what he'd said as he'd laid there dying. Ianto knew how Jack reacted to the deaths of those he cared about. Ianto hadn't even wanted Jack in the room. He hadn't wanted Jack to watch. He didn't want memories of him blood splattered and dying to be Jack's last memories of him. He'd wanted Jack to remember the laughter and the love. He was lashing out and it was the first thing that came to his mind.

They'd argued and disagreed before but this was the first time Ianto had said something so purposefully cruel to him. Jack felt it cut deep. He didn't know what to do. Everything that he said seemed to be coming out wrong. Everything he did seemed to be the wrong thing. He'd never seen Ianto like this, his mind darting wildly and his emotions volleying. The young Welshman was always the picture of order.

"I have things to do," Ianto said and turned towards the ladder.

"No you don't, Yan. Will took care of everything already," Jack said and knew immediately it was the wrong thing to say.

"You and Mandy are trying to handle me. I'm fine. I'm perfectly capable of doing my job," Ianto insisted.

"We know that, Yan! You're taking today off and tomorrow you can come back to work," Jack said, trying to sooth his lover. Jack was growing increasingly concerned. Ianto seemed to be at some sort of breaking point. The Welshman was trembling so hard he was practically vibrating.

"I'm fine. Everything's gone to shit. You're tossing your socks in the hamper. My whole fucking life has been a lie… I'm fine. I'm fine," Ianto said and kept repeating that he was fine, over and over again.

Jack walked over to Ianto and shook him hard. "Ianto! Stop! You're not fine."

Ianto stopped and stared into Jack's blue eyes. He buried his face into the crook of Jack's neck, inhaling a lungful of those fifty first century pheromones and felt some calm come back to him. "What's going to happen to me, Jack?"

"I don't know," Jack said, "but we're going to get through this together. I promise. I love you so much."

Jack lifted Ianto's head and kissed him. Ianto melted into Jack's arms as Jack deepened the kiss, their arms sliding around each other. Jack started to walk Ianto backwards towards their bed. _Sex… the ultimate Jack Harkness distraction technique…_

Ianto abruptly broke the kiss and shrugged himself out of Jack's arms. "I'm sorry, Jack. I can't do this right now. I just… I need some time alone, yeah?"

With that, Ianto slipped his trainers on and fled up the bunker's ladder leaving a stunned Jack in his wake. He fled across the main Hub, acting on instinct. He climbed the ladder up to the top catwalk, ending up at Myfanwy's nest. The pterodactyl was napping on her perch as she always did after her morning feeding. She lifted her long beaked face up to gaze at Ianto. She squawked softly, tilting her head.

"Hey girl," Ianto said. "I'm sorry I didn't feed you this morning."

Myfanwy tilted her head at him in the other direction and hopped off her perch, walking towards him slowly. She dipped her head and leaned her beak forward.

"I'm sorry, girl. I don't have any chocolate for you," he said as he ran his hand down her beak. When him and Jack had first brought Myfanwy into the Hub, she had been positively vicious. It was over a year before Ianto was able to feed her without fearing for his limbs. It'd taken years and more chocolate than Ianto wanted to think about but the pterodactyl had become quite tame, at least, towards him.

The rift alert suddenly went off. Ianto leaned over the railing. He saw Jack bolt out of his office, nearly colliding with Miranda. The two immortals scrutinised the workstation display and then they both took off for the garage. Normally, Ianto would have sprang up and ran back downstairs. He would have gotten dressed as he tried to coordinate for the rest of the team in case they needed him out in the field. He would have cared. But right now, for the first time, Ianto Jones didn't care. He stayed where he was, gently petting Myfanwy, who seemed to be enjoying the attention.

He gave Myfanwy another pat on the beak, promising to bring her some chocolate later and then he slowly descended back down to the bunker. He changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and then went off to the Hub garage, got in his car and started to drive towards his sister's council estate. He sat outside in his car waiting. He'd tried the bell but no one was home. David and Mica would be at school and Johnny would be at work but Rhiannon would most likely be home. It was only mid-afternoon. She was probably out running some errand and would be back soon.

He was only waiting a few minutes when he saw the grey car pull around the corner. His sister got out and started unloading grocery sacks into the house. Ianto came up behind her wordlessly and started to help her.

"Ianto! You gave me a fright!" she gasped, her hand clutched over her heart. "Wasn't expecting you."

"Sorry," he said. "Let me help you."

Once all the groceries were loaded into the house and put away, Ianto sat down at the kitchen table.

"So what brings you out here?" Rhiannon asked with a smile. "You never tell me anything these days. I even had to hear about that boyfriend of yours from Suzie and you still won't bring him round! I don't even get to hear my baby brother's gone bender from his own mouth! You should have known that it wouldn't bother me none!"

Ianto rolled his eyes a little. It was an old argument. Rhiannon's friend had seen him and Jack at a restaurant a few years ago. His sister had been trying to get Ianto to bring Jack round to dinner but Ianto had been dodging the invitation. He put his hands around the mug of tea Rhiannon set down in front of him.

"Tell me that story again. The one when Mam and Tad brought me home and you were furious," Ianto said, softly.

"What you want to go hearing that for again?" she asked with a nervous laugh.

"Because I want the truth this time, Rhi," Ianto said and when he saw the fear flash in her eyes he knew he'd hit close to things. "Rhiannon!"

"How'd you find out?" she asked sadly.

"Doesn't matter," he said. "The truth, Rhi."

Rhiannon took a deep breath. "Mam had a late term miscarriage. I remember them talking. Mam was in a bad way, spent some time up at Providence Park and was in and out after that."

"I remember," Ianto said flatly.

"I think Tad thought it would make it all better, adopting you," Rhiannon said with a smile, "and it did for a while."

Ianto looked around the house, the strewn toys and chaotic mess that was always his sister's house. One of David's toys was tossed on the floor, a plastic sword. Suddenly, he realised how foolish he'd been leaving the safety of the Hub. He didn't have his gun. _I don't even own a sword…_

"I've got to go," Ianto said, abruptly standing up.

"Ianto, you know it doesn't matter none! You're still my baby brother! Always will be!" Rhiannon cried, misreading her brother's abrupt attempt to leave.

"I know, Rhi," he said, looking at her sadly. "I'm sorry, I've got to go."

"You sure you're okay?" Rhiannon asked suspiciously.

"I'm fine, Rhi. I just don't have much time," he said. _Time…_ _I'll watch you and Johnny grow old and die… David… Mica…_ Ianto swallowed on a dry throat and hugged her. "I love you."

Rhiannon was a little shocked by the embrace but smiled and hugged her brother back. "Love you too."

She pulled back and looked up at him. "Come round for Christmas, yeah? Bring that man of yours. I want to meet him."

Ianto smiled. "I'll try."

She walked him out and he waved as he drove away. He drove back to the Hub in silence, trying not to be angry with his sister or his parents for not telling him. _More lies…_ He parked his car in the Hub garage and walked back inside. He was barely halfway down the hallway when a sudden sharp pressure blossomed between his temples. There was no pain but his head felt like it was trapped in a vice. He leaned against the wall, gripping his forehead. The pressure eased, becoming barely noticeable but it didn't go away entirely. He stood up and continued walking, shaking his head a little to try to ease the pressure but it persisted. He knew he couldn't be getting sick. Do immortals get headaches? _Maybe some paracetamol…_

When he got to the main area of the Hub, Jack bolted towards him. "Where did you go? We were worried sick!"

"I went to see my sister," Ianto said, pushing his lover away from him, ignoring the slightly hurt look in Jack's eyes.

"You can't do that, Yan. It's not safe! You have to take Will with you!" Jack said.

"I'm not a child or a prisoner, Jack," Ianto snapped as he stormed off towards the bunker but Jack snagged his arm as he pushed past him.

"Please, Yan. I almost lost you once. I can't… " Jack choked.

Ianto felt badly. He gathered Jack into his arms and noticed Miranda watching them. He let go of Jack and turned to her.

"You going to yell at me too?" he snapped.

"You don't need me to lecture you, Ifan, or to tell you that leaving here unarmed was foolish," she said. She lifted her chin and gave him a look of disappointment. He immediately regretted his cheek. "Your first lesson. That pressure in your head? Remember it. Fear it. Don't always assume that it's me. If I'm not with you? Run. You get to holy ground. You stay there and you ring me."

Ianto nodded and Miranda's phone went off. She took it out of her pocket and read the text message. _St. John the Baptist Parish Church. One hour._ "I have to go out, I'll be back shortly."

"Where are you going, Will?" Jack said nervously. "Ianto needs protection."

"The Hub is practically impenetrable, Jack. He's safe here. I need to meet with the other immortals that live in Cardiff. Ianto is my student, I have to seek amnesty for him."

Jack's eyes widened. "You never told me there were other immortals here!"

"They aren't threats, Jack. There are only two. I stay out of their way and they stay out of mine," she said as she made for the lift.

Jack snagged her arm. "You're going to tell them about Ianto? They could come after him!"

"I highly doubt that, Jack, and if they did, they'd have to go through me first," she said. "It's a courtesy. Most of our kind will make exceptions for newborns in training. If I don't tell them about Ianto and they encounter him alone, it will make things very different."

"Should I come with you?" Ianto asked.

"It's not necessary and it's better if you didn't," she said with a shake of her head. Miranda looked at Ianto and then Jack. "Jack, why don't you get Ifan something to eat. He needs to keep up his strength."

"I'm not hungry, Mandy," Ianto said dismissively.

She gave him another hard stare. "Your second lesson? The Game is survival of the fittest. If you don't take care of your body, you die. Eat," she ordered as she checked her fob watch. "I'll be back in a few hours."


	7. Chapter 7

Ianto was sitting on the Hub sofa waiting for Jack. They'd ordered take away from their favorite Indian restaurant and Jack had insisted on going to get it. Ianto felt a prisoner in his own home. He understood why his confinement was necessary but he still hated it. Once Miranda had left, the pressure behind his forehead had receded. Ianto wondered how he would deal with its constant presence since Miranda lived and worked in the Hub. He figured he would become accustom to it over time. He hadn't noticed it yesterday but, well, yesterday he was a sodding wreck. He was still a sodding wreck. The sound of gears brought his head up. The lift was descending and there was no pressure in his head. It was Jack with the food.

Jack smiled at Ianto warmly as he took the food into the boardroom. The smell made Ianto's stomach rumble loudly. He didn't realise how hungry he was until the food had arrived. Jack had thought ahead, purchasing double of everything, including Miranda's usual order. Ianto had scolded Jack for the waste but he was literally eating his own words. He'd been so famished that he'd devoured the double order of his own dish as well as Jack's second order. Ianto had always been astonished at how much food Jack and Miranda ate. In fact, sometimes it made him faintly sick to watch them. Jack never seemed to gain an ounce and Miranda was just as slim. Ianto had never had a large appetite before. The portions from this restaurant were generous and, usually he didn't even finish his own order. _Something else that's changed…_

"Hungry?" Jack teased with a smile as he took in the empty containers.

"Starved… Never used to have this much of an appetite," he said sadly, balling his paper napkin and tossing it aside.

"Coming back takes a lot out of you," Jack said, not looking at his lover. He waved at the empty containers. "Will explained it to me once, at least how it works for you and her. Your bodies steal raw materials from your bone, muscle and fat to repair any fatal damage so that you can revive as fast as you can. You'll be hungry for days while your body tries to replace what it stole. The more damage, the more it needs to replace."

Ianto sighed. It made sense. "It's all a bit new to me…"

"I'm sorry, Yan. I never wanted this for you. Neither did Will," Jack said.

"She knew, Jack. She fucking knew and she never said a thing," Ianto said. The hot rush of anger he'd felt immediately vanished and he sighed. "I know she had her reasons. I get it and I feel bad that she's had to keep it to herself all these years. I just…"

"You're angry and she's convenient," Jack said with a shrug. "I was mad at her too."

"I know she didn't do this to me. I know I was always like this," he said, scrubbing at his face. "I don't know what I would have done if she'd told me."

"I don't know either," Jack said and then reached across the boardroom table for Ianto's hand. "This doesn't change anything, Yan. You know that right?"

"I know Jack," Ianto said, as if trying to convince himself. "It just feels like it changes everything."

Jack stood up and walked around the table and put his arms around Ianto. "I'm selfish. I'm just glad to still have you."

"It's not selfish, Cariad," Ianto said. He shrugged off Jack and started to clear away the empty containers.

The two men threw away the empty containers and Ianto left Miranda's food in the Hub fridge. He leaned against the counter and buried his face in his hands. He was so tired that he felt drained. He was emotionally and physically spent.

"I'm knackered," he said and started off towards the bunker.

After he'd descended the ladder, the two men started going about their routines. Ianto felt his heart sink again when Jack tossed both his socks into the hamper. When the two men finally climbed into bed, it was barely nine o'clock at night. They laid there for a while in the darkness, Ianto in Jack's arms.

"When you… I'm sorry, Yan. I couldn't… I just…" Jack said, his voice shaking.

Ianto felt terribly. He'd forgotten about his low blow earlier this morning. "No, Cariad, I'm the one who's sorry. I shouldn't have said it… any of it. I didn't mean it."

Jack's arms tightened around Ianto. "Yan…"

"Jack, I'm too tired for this," Ianto said with a groan. "Please, just let me go to sleep."

"Sorry," Jack said, sadly.

"It's all right, Cariad," Ianto said. "I'm just… I'm overwhelmed. We'll talk. I promise, just not tonight, please."

"Okay," Jack said softly as he ran his hands through Ianto's hair. "At least we know you'll be keeping this."

Ianto couldn't help but smile and chuckle. It was a running joke between the two men, whether Ianto would lose his hair or if it would turn grey as he aged. It had always been a way of deflating the elephant in the room that was Ianto's death.

"Now, I know you won't leave me for someone younger when I'm old and grey," Ianto said with a smile, voicing an old fear as a joke.

"Never, Yan," Jack said, pressing a kiss to Ianto's head.

A horrible thought bubbled up in Ianto's mind. _No, now you'll just get bored with me…_

"Maybe you should, Jack," Ianto said softly. He was exhausted and the fatigue was loosening his tongue.

Jack let go of Ianto, gaping at him, wide eyed and open mouthed. "How can you say that, Ianto?!"

"Jack…" Ianto had had enough. He got out of bed and turned on the light. The words poured out of Ianto, so fast they almost ran together. "I know you, Jack. I know how you are. Barring some lunatic with a sword chopping my head off, I'm going to live a long fucking time."

Ianto didn't want to hold Jack back. Hoarding the man he loved for himself was one thing when Torchwood would have killed him, but now? Ianto knew it wasn't in Jack's nature. Ianto sighed. He bent down and tugged his overnight bag out from under their bed… the bed.

The movement brought Jack to his senses and he flew out of the bed and grabbed at Ianto's hands. "Ianto? What are you doing?"

"I'm going to stay in one of the staterooms," Ianto said as he started tossing clothes into the bag, "and then I'm going to move back into my flat."

"Ianto, please, don't do this," Jack said, his eyes filling with tears. "I just got you back…"

"I'm not leaving, just taking a step back. I'll always be here - no 'Death by Torchwood' for me," Ianto said, trying to keep his voice steady. "You're free, Jack. You don't need to worry about me anymore. Go out, enjoy whatever or whoever you want. It's better this way."

Jack felt his heart break. He'd never just been indulging Ianto when it came to keeping their relationship exclusive. True, it wasn't the norm in Jack's time but it still existed. Jack's parents had been a monogamous couple. He loved Ianto and he hadn't wanted anyone else. Jack felt his heart split as a terrible thought entered his mind, _He wants more… _Ianto was immortal now. The whole world was before him. Things that Ianto had told himself were out of his reach because of his short life expectancy as a Torchwood agent were now possible for him. He didn't need to limit himself to just Jack and Torchwood anymore. He could go back to university. He could travel the world. He didn't need to stay in Cardiff with Jack and Torchwood. He had options. He had time. How could Jack hold him back? What right did he have? _I love him… enough to let him go…_

"Yeah, you're right," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "You could go, travel the world."

Ianto zipped the overnight bag shut. _How could I go anywhere you aren't?_ he thought with a knife in his chest. He blinked back tears and quirked a sad smile. Ianto was glad Jack was giving him an out, sparing him from having to watch him shag his way across Cardiff. Ianto was certain the man must be getting twitchy after their nearly six year relationship. He remembered stalking Jack, before he'd joined Torchwood. He'd followed the Torchwood captain around for nearly two weeks. He'd watched him go to bars and clubs and remote men's toilets and seen him shag some nameless stranger after nameless stranger. The thought of Jack's arms around some stranger caused the knife in his chest to twist. Sure they'd made exceptions before but that was different and nothing had come of it, just talk. What right did he have to hold Jack back and ask him to restrict himself to just him for centuries?

"Just the way it was in the beginning, yeah?" Ianto said, feigning indifference.

Jack felt his heart splinter again. He remembered the flirting over Suzie's drawer. The stopwatch. It had been quite a night, athletic and satisfying. What Ianto had lacked in experience he had made up for in enthusiasm and he was a fast learner. But those encounters paled in comparison to what the two men now shared. Ever since Jack had returned from the Year that Never Was, he vowed that he would never take Ianto for granted again and he'd tried his best to make Ianto feel loved and wanted. Jack had fallen harder and deeper in love than he thought possible. How could he go back to quick hand jobs in the archives and fast furious couplings where Ianto dressed and left afterwards? Jack blinked back tears at the thought of not waking up next to his Welshman, the thought of his scent fading from the sheets.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Ianto said, lifting the bag and started to climb the ladder. He needed to get out of here before he started to cry or his resolve crumbled. It was better this way. He was leaving Jack free to be himself without the twenty first century restrictions he'd imposed on him. Maybe, someday, Jack would come back to him. _I love you, Jack…_ Ianto would wait, forever if necessary. He had time now.

"Yeah, Ianto, tomorrow," Jack said as he flipped off the light, not wanting Ianto to see the tears now streaming down his face. It was better this way. He freeing Ianto to explore the opportunities his immortality was giving him. Maybe, someday, Ianto would come back to him. _I love you, Ianto…_ Jack would be waiting, forever if necessary. He had time.

Ianto fled across the main Hub and down the north stairs, he barely managed to make it into one of the staterooms before he broke down. He'd slammed the door, his back sliding down it as his arse hit the floor hard enough to bruise and crumpled in a heap of tears. He sobbed. He wiped his nose on the back of his hand and noticed he was wearing Jack's t-shirt. He hugged his chest, gripping the shirt in his hands. Meanwhile, Jack was in the bunker, clutching Ianto's pillow to his face, breathing in the scent of his lover as he sobbed.

And both men wished for nothing more than the arms of the other.


	8. Chapter 8

It was nearly midnight. Miranda had been trying to stay out of Jack and Ianto's way as much as possible, so she was sitting outside on the Plass. The rift spike in the afternoon was, thankfully, the only one that came up. She was pleased to see Ianto had eaten a hearty supper when she'd returned. The meeting with Rosen and Connolly had gone well. They would leave Ianto be for now.

The Hub's kitchen bin had been overflowing with take-away containers. She'd found the container with her own meal in the fridge and, after she'd eaten in her rooms, she had dug the large rectangular case out from underneath her bed. The case contained the sword she had purchased for Ianto four years ago. After she'd assured herself it was still in pristine condition, she had closed the case and left it by the door to her rooms. Then she'd come up to the Plass to find Kiernan. She was sitting next to him on a bench, smoking with him.

"You wanted my first death information?" she asked.

"I'm all ears, Mao-Lin," he said, paying rapt attention.

Miranda had to smile at his eagerness. The young Watcher was practically bursting with excitement. He looked like a child on Christmas morning.

"I displeased the Emperor and he beat me to death," Miranda said simply. She'd decided on telling Kiernan a half truth, a version of her first death that correlated with her immortal alias. She had been beaten to death but not by the first emperor of China.

"You were expecting something more rosy perhaps?" she said sarcastically.

"No, I just… wasn't expecting that," Kiernan said. "Why'd he do it?"

"I displeased him, he was the emperor. Did he require any other reason?"

"That's it?" he asked, sounding a little disappointed.

"Would you like a blow by blow?" Miranda snapped. It was hard for her to remember so far back into her past but that night was one she remembered so vividly it occasionally haunted her dreams.

"No, no… I'm sorry," he apologised. "What happened after that? How did you meet Jing Ke?"

_Jing Ke? _"My first death information was our deal, Kiernan." she said, darkly.

"I'm not putting this in your chronicle, Mao-Lin." Kiernan asked.

Frustrated, she said, "That is your decision, Kiernan."

"What was the emperor like?" he asked.

"I really couldn't answer that, Kiernan, unless you'd like to hear about his sexual appetites," she said.

Kiernan sat there, a strange look on his face. He dropped his cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his trainer. He looked disappointed but Miranda couldn't provide him with some greater insight into a man she'd never even known.

"Thanks, Mao-Lin," he said, standing "I'm going to head on home."

"Good night, Kiernan," she said as she lit another cigarette.

Kiernan was about to walk away but he turned and asked, "How is Ianto doing?"

"How would you be?"

"A sodding mess, right…" he said sadly. "Good night, Mao-Lin."

"Night, Kiernan," she said.

Miranda watched Kiernan walk away. He didn't look back and she decided to stay outside in the crisp air and continued to smoke. In fact, she was chain smoking. She'd gone through nearly five cigarettes when she felt a sharp pressure between her temples. She dropped the cigarette and whirled around, her hand in her coat. She saw no one.

"Ifan?" she called out.

"How did you know it was me?" he asked, stepping off the invisible lift.

"If you can feel an immortal, you should be able to see an immortal. I saw no one so unless our kind have learned to fly, it means it was you and you were on the lift," she said with a shrug. She took out another cigarette and lit it.

"Can I have one of those?" he ask, pointing at the pack.

She held it out to him. "I don't recommend the habit to my students."

He laughed. "It's not like it's going to kill me, Mandy."

"No, you won't die from cancer or emphysema, but frequent use can leave you winded," she said, taking a long drag off of the cigarette, the orange end flaring brightly as she inhaled. "And if you're winded, you're vulnerable."

"Didn't think of it like that," he said, taking the lighter from her. He'd seen her smoke on occasion but not enough that he'd call it a habit.

Miranda blew the smoke out away from them. "You are an immortal of the Game and you are Ianto Jones. It is in that order. You need to start thinking about everything in terms of your survival. You should be resting. Your training begins in five hours."

"Couldn't sleep," Ianto said. He had no desire to confide why to his friend. "Where's Kiernan?"

Miranda jerked her head up the Plass. "Gone home."

"Who's my stalker?" Ianto asked, using Miranda's playful term for her Watcher.

"Kiernan."

"For the two of us?" he asked, his eyes widening with surprise.

Miranda nodded. "I think it's ill-advised but I understand it, you and I do live and work in the same place."

"I'm probably going to move back to my flat," Ianto said nonchalantly.

"I'll mention it to Kiernan. They may want to assign you someone different in that case. I'd like for you to delay that decision as long as possible, Ifan. The Hub's security means you're relatively safe here," she said. She noted that Ianto had used a singular pronoun and had mentioned nothing of Jack. She wondered exactly how bad the row had been. She could see the puffy eyes in the dull orange lights. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Ianto said, taking a long drag off the cigarette. "Jack and I are taking a break is all."

Miranda could tell the nonchalance was feigned. It wasn't just a row. It was a complete cock up. She stood there for a moment, trying to decide if she should attempt to interfere or let the situation play out. She'd expected some friction between the two men while their relationship adjusted but not something like this.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Ianto shook his head and Miranda laid a hand on his shoulder. She'd let it be for now.

"When you're ready then," she said. "Go to sleep. We begin tomorrow."


	9. Chapter 9

Miranda walked out of her rooms carrying the black case in her hands. She almost collided with Ianto, coming down the hallway not from the north stairs that led to the Hub but from the other direction, from the staircase that led down to the staterooms. _Not a complete cock up then… a spectacular disaster! _She said nothing and the two of them walked down to the gym together. She didn't speak until they'd gotten to the middle of the room and she'd set the case down on the floor.

"Morning, Ifan," Miranda said.

"This is an ungodly hour, Mandy," Ianto said, yawning.

"Get used to it," she said, laying the case onto the floor mats and kneeling in front of it. She opened the case and flipped back the oiled cloth. Ianto took a knee next to her, admiring the blade. He reached for it but stopped looking to Miranda for permission.

"It's yours. I hope it serves you well," she said with a smile.

Ianto reached for the hilt, pulling the sword from the case, his arm dipping from the weight of the lead filled pommel. "This isn't just for practice is it?"

"No, it isn't. Some teach with practice blades but I think it's a waste of time. You adjust to the practice blade only to have to readjust to the real one. This longsword is from the twelfth century. It's a hand and a half sword and can be swung either one or two handed. It once belonged to Owain Glyndwr." She smiled at the look of awe on his face. _Worth every penny_. "The hilt and scabbard are original but twelfth century steel is too brittle. I had the blade replaced with one made from modern heat treated, carbon tempered steel that has a hollow ground double fuller."

He nodded, running his hands over the oiled leather of the scabbard. "Where did you get it?"

"That's neither here nor there," she said with a smile.

"It isn't stolen is it?"

She laughed, "No. I purchased it from a private collector. It was the hilt I was after. Since the blade was badly corroded and pitted, I got a good deal. This blade was forged by a blacksmith in Canada."

"This must have cost you a fortune. You didn't have to do this, Mandy."

"It's tradition, Ifan. The teacher provides the sword for the student. It wasn't a large expense." She was telling a half truth, knowing Ianto would be appalled if he knew the sword's cost. She'd acquired the twelfth century Welsh treasure for a song. The corroded and pitted blade had ruined the value despite the sword's illustrious owner. The leather of the hilt had also been cracked and damaged. What had also destroyed its value was the fact that there was no modern documentation to support the owner's claim that the blade had been used by Owain Glyndwr. Miranda had used her own resources to discover the truth. The true expense had been the restoration of the hilt and scabbard, and the modern blade. Blacksmiths who could forge a battle ready blade of quality were almost non-existent.

Miranda tapped his hip with her hand and said, "Let's begin."

The two immortals stood opposite each other. Ianto felt awkward and stupid. He wondered if he should bow or something.

Miranda drew herself up. Ianto thought she looked almost regal standing there with her own Chinese jian in her hands. When she spoke again, she sounded like she was reciting.

"Only one immortal may challenge another. Do not break the sanctity of holy ground with combat. When there are but a few of us left, we will be undeniably drawn to a far off land for The Gathering where we will compete for the prize. In the end," she said and then paused, her voice darkening, "there can be only one."

Ianto swallowed nervously. It hadn't felt like a lesson. It had felt more like an induction, like he'd just been baptised into some mad religion. Ianto remembered his childhood days in church and repeated, "There can be only one."

Miranda smiled and lifted her blade, saluting him with it.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," Ianto said standing with the sword in his left hand.

"That's why I'm here. Try swinging the blade with one arm as much as possible, it will build your strength," she said then nodded to his right side. "Use your right arm, Ifan."

"You're using your left," Ianto said, switching hands.

"Fighting with your non-dominant hand is far in your future," she said. "Don't choke up so high on the hilt, good."

Miranda moved Ianto through a few exercises and manoeuvers. After a short time, she stopped the lesson. Ianto was clearly exhausted.

"Christ, I used to think I was in good shape," Ianto said, panting, sinking heavily down onto the bench.

"I'll go easy on you these first few weeks," Miranda said, tossing him a towel.

"That was going easy on me?" Ianto gasped.

"You'll do better if you get more rest," she pointed out.

"You and Jack never sleep," Ianto said.

"There are other reasons for that, Ifan," Miranda said softly. She bent over the case, digging out the scabbard. "Hold the sword with the blade up, examine the edge for any nicks or damage. Use your eyes, not your hands."

Miranda showed him how to hone and oil the blade and then slid the sword into its scabbard. "I know that it's bulky and heavy and that you're relatively safe inside the Hub but I want you to get into the habit of carrying it everywhere. Never more than a few steps out of reach, okay?"

Ianto nodded as he twisted the top of a water bottle. "Probably should get a belt for it or something."

Miranda shook her head. "No, you won't be able to wear that out in public. It's better for you to just carry it here as I do. I'd like for you to familiarise yourself with the location of every church, temple, mosque and cemetery in Cardiff. Everywhere you go, I want you to think about where the closest holy ground is."

Miranda produced a piece of paper from her bag. "The name and number for Warren Lanning, my solicitor in London and my financial agent, Arthur Meredith, they're both expecting your call."

"What for?" Ianto asked.

"I really have no idea how Jack has managed to keep his name and stay in the same city for over a hundred years. He's the exception, Ianto. Most of us must move around and change our identities. That can be a complicated matter in this modern era," she said. "Every time I've come to work for Torchwood, I've done so under a different name."

"I've seen your real personnel file - five aliases over sixty years."

Miranda nodded. "Precisely. You need someone to handle your legal and financial affairs who knows exactly who and what you are."

"But Jack-"

"Jack is the exception. We cannot draw attention to ourselves, Ianto. I am amazed that I am the only immortal of the Game Jack has ever encountered. The mad way he behaves with regards to his identity should have every immortal in Europe descending upon him for his non-existent quickening. Not concealing our true nature not only draws the attention of other immortals, it draws attention to the Game and to what we are. We exist in the shadows, in the background and that is where we need to stay."

Ianto stayed silent for a moment. Their conversation was interrupted by the lights flashing. Miranda sighed and put her comm unit into her ear.

"Sure, Jack. I'll be right up," she said and then turned to Ianto. "UNIT is on the line for me. Go get cleaned up and get some breakfast."

She patted Ianto's shoulder. She shook her head as Ianto walked into the locker room leaving his sword behind on the bench. It was an error. She'd wait to see if and when Ianto realised. She had barely broken a sweat so she went to her rooms and changed clothes quickly before heading up to the main Hub. After kicking Jack out of his office, she settled behind his desk and transferred the call to her comm unit. She was more than annoyed Jack hadn't seen to this call himself.

"This is Doctor Ryan," she said.

"Good morning, Doctor, this is Colonel Mace. My apologies for the early hour. Code in please," he said.

"No apologies necessary, Colonel. Ryan, Miranda. Torchwood authorisation alpha five seven three, november, foxtrot, four, one one six," she said.

"That is verified," he said.

"Your code as well, Colonel," Miranda said activating the authorisation software on her comm unit. This bit of protocol was required for calls not scheduled and initiated outside the UNIT switchboard. She wasn't surprised it was Colonel Mace calling. Since Miranda and Colonel Ashline's daughter, Nora, had ended their relationship, Colonel Ashline had handed off the Torchwood liaising to Mace. Given how their relationship had ended, Miranda wasn't surprised to find the Colonel unwilling to speak with her.

"Mace, Gerald. UNIT authorization five five two, dash, eight, one, seven, three alpha tango," he said curtly.

Miranda's comm unit didn't disconnect the call. "Verified. How are you Colonel?"

"Well, Doctor Ryan and yourself?"

"Fine. What can I do for you today, sir?" she asked.

"I'm sending down a few items I'd like for your technician, Doctor Fischer, I believe, to look at."

Miranda was surprised. UNIT had a number of scientists at their disposal. "What is the situation?"

"The first item is a new industrial lubricant that could revolutionise the machine industry. It's non-petroleum based, cheap and easily synthesized by our technologies."

"Sounds too good to be true," Miranda said, suspicious.

"That was what we were thinking as well, Doctor," he said. "The second item is a soil additive, similar to inorganic commercial fertilizers but doesn't require natural gas for its production."

"Again, it sounds too good to be true," she said, her suspicions growing.

"The third item is a new form of battery. I'd describe that one to you but I don't understand it in the slightest. Again, it is a piece of technology that seems too good to be true," the Colonel said, sounding weary.

"Torchwood is at your disposal, Colonel. You suspect alien technologies are involved?"

"That is our suspicion, Doctor Ryan. The items should be arriving shortly by special UNIT courier."

Miranda's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Mace was wasting no time. "We shall make them our top priority, Colonel."

"I appreciate it. You will update me daily?" he asked.

"Of course, end of business," she said. "Good day to you, sir."

"And to you, doctor," he said, disconnecting the call.

Miranda pushed back from the desk and went up to the tourist office to collect the package herself.


	10. Chapter 10

After Miranda's call with UNIT, the courier had arrived and Miranda had left the package on Fish's work table. Ianto had gone to fetch breakfast and then had vanished down into the archives before Gwen and Fish arrived. Before either of her team mates could corner the Welshman, Miranda had herded the two of them into the boardroom.

"Where's Ianto, Miranda?" Gwen asked.

"He's down in the archives doing some filing. Understandably, he wants everything to get back to normal as soon as possible and that's what I wanted to talk to you two about," Miranda said.

Miranda pushed the two paper plates towards Gwen and Fish. Ianto had left their usual take away breakfasts in the boardroom. There was a bacon sandwich for Miranda. There was Gwen's cheese and egg whites on toast and Fish's apple pastry.

"I know that this may go without saying but we need to treat him exactly the same as we did before. He's still our archivist. He's still making the coffee, cleaning up after us and getting us everywhere on time," Miranda said indicating the food.

"Ianto went and got this?" Gwen asked, looking down at her sandwich sadly.

"And none of that, Gwen," Miranda said firmly.

"None of what?" Gwen said indignantly.

"Pity," Miranda snapped. "Ianto Jones is a proud man."

"He's doing okay?" Fish asked.

"And none of that as well," Miranda said. "For the time being, I need you two to pretend as if that night never happened at least for the next few weeks. And, no, he's not okay but he will be. He just needs time."

Miranda saw the two of them bristle and held up her hands calmingly and then put them flat on the boardroom table, leaning forward to make her point. "I know you two care about him. He's your friend, your teammate, you both love him very much but you cannot understand what he's going through in the slightest and I don't say that to be patronising or condescending."

She let the two of them absorb that for a few minutes before she spoke again, "On another personal note, there is some friction in Jack and Ifan's relationship. I'm not telling you both this for the sake of gossip. I'm telling you so that you're aware of it and so that you both know that it's also something we need to stay out of."

"What do you mean 'friction'?" Gwen asked.

Miranda sighed. She hadn't wanted to let Gwen and Fish know the extent but they would find out themselves eventually and it would be better if they got it out of their systems now. "Ifan is sleeping in one of the staterooms."

"WHAT?!" Gwen and Fish shouted simultaneously.

"Shhh!" Miranda said, trying to keep them quiet. Both men would be mortified if they knew she was telling Gwen and Fish about this. Miranda was often privy to more details about Ianto and Jack's relationship because she lived at the Hub with the two men. She had always respected their privacy and refused to gossip about their personal lives but this situation was different. "I don't know the specifics or what precisely happened but this morning before his first training session, Ifan came up from the staterooms. They always have breakfast together in Jack's office. This morning Jack was sitting at his desk alone, not eating. The two of them have been nothing but civil and polite to each other."

Gwen and Fish both seemed too stunned to speak.

"I know it seems like we should do something or try to help but Ifan is dealing with enough right now. I think that the last thing he needs is for us to start meddling in his relationship," Miranda said, "and without knowing the particulars there's a good chance we could make things worse."

"Poor Ianto…" Gwen muttered.

Miranda cast her a stern glance. "Gwen."

"Sorry, sorry," she said. "I can't help it! First his whole world gets turned upside down and Jack leaving him is just like kicking him when he's down!"

"That may not be what happened, Gwen," Fish said. "We can't assume."

"He's right, Gwen. We need to stay out of it. I mean it," Miranda said.

"Is that an order, Miranda?" Gwen asked defensively.

"No, it's not an order, Gwen. It's sound advice from someone who is way the fuck older than you are," Miranda snapped. She knew that Gwen meant well but now was not the time for her meddling. "That being said, there are some changes with regards to work that are going to begin as of now."

"What sort of changes?" Gwen asked.

"From now on, Ifan is included in 'The Warder's Orders'. Jack, myself or Ifan will take point on field missions and the immortal rota is being reworked to include Ifan."

"Oh, he is going to love that," Fish said with a chuckle.

"Also, within a week or so Jack and I will be working out a rota for some of the duties that, until this point, have been strictly Ifan's responsibility."

"What? Why?" Gwen asked, surprised. "I thought you said things need to stay normal."

"Ifan's sword training is going to be taking up a great deal of his time and energy and there is no reason that we can't step up to help him out a little from time to time," Miranda said. She had wanted to ease a number of these duties off of Ianto when she had first rejoined the team but it was Ianto himself who had been resistant to it.

Miranda held up her hand and started counting of points. "Dewi, Myfanwy and Janet's care, trash duty, the staterooms, the hothouse, fetching the take away and some of the basic Hub maintenance will now be rotated through the entire team, myself and Jack included. I'll get those rotas to the two of you as soon as Jack and I have them. Your input will be appreciated as well. Now, down to other business. Fish, UNIT sent over a package of various incidentals they'd like for you to analyse. It's on your desk and is now priority one. I'd like updates twice a day please. That's all for now, you're both dismissed."

Just as Fish and Gwen had gotten up from the table as Ianto came striding into the room with his tray of mugs. Gwen and Fish gave Ianto a nervous smile a piece and then hurried passed him. Miranda was happy to see that Gwen kept the pity out of her face. He turned on his heel to follow them with the coffee but Miranda stopped him.

"Hold up, Ifan. I have some things for you," she said. "You did well this morning. Your training will be every day except Sunday, five in the morning sharp and you have two weeks to read these."

She pulled out Jack's chair and transferred the small stack of books from the chair to the table. Ianto reached out and picked up the volumes.

"Sun Tzu, Augustine and Descartes?"

"Every other week, I'll give you a new set," Miranda said.

"I understand the gym, Mandy, but the books?" Ianto said, confused.

"The sword is only as sharp as the mind that wields it," Miranda said. She picked up a fourth book and laid it down next to the others. "You'll also be needing this."

"An English to Spanish dictionary?" he asked. "I already speak Italian and French."

"You're more than welcome to pick a different language provided I already speak it," Miranda said.

"What are my choices?" Ianto asked.

"Spanish, German, Russian, Mandarin and Japanese," Miranda said with a shrug. "There are also several dead languages that I still know."

Ianto's eyebrows raised. He hadn't thought of learning a dead language. He assumed Miranda knew some languages that were no longer spoken but he didn't see the point in learning one so he asked. "What's the point of learning a dead language?"

"Private communication. Codes can be broken. A language that has no translation assures comprehension and secrecy."

"What are my options there?" he asked, curious. He had a sudden idea. "What about your native language?"

"Most of my own language is lost to me, Ifan. I remember a few words and phrases but nothing more," she said sadly. "I know four dead languages fluently, Latin, Ancient North Arabian, Middle Chinese and Middle Egyptian. Most of the other languages I have learned, I have mostly forgotten."

"I'll think about it," Ianto sighed and tucked the pile of books into his arm. "It's all overwhelming, Mandy."

"I know, Ifan, you'll be fine."

"Wish I had that confidence," Ianto said. He took one of the books and started flipping through the pages with a raised eyebrow. "I've never been much for school."

"This isn't school, Ifan. There won't be any essays, or exams. I'm giving you these to read because I believe that advancing your education will help you survive the Game. Read them, don't read them, it's entirely up to you, but I highly recommend you commit the Sun Tzu to memory," she said with a shrug. "I saw that fallacy of a personal history you concocted for Jack - 'able student but not exceptional, one minor conviction for shoplifting in your teens, a number of temporary jobs, mainly a drifter until you joined the Torchwood Institute in London, junior researcher'." Miranda stared Ianto down. "Thinly veiled half truths and lies of omission are my expertise."

Ianto shifted his weight a little uncomfortably.

"I can do my own research," Miranda said sternly. "You were marked a gifted student but the classic underachiever. You were convicted for shoplifting, twice, not once. You took your A levels and did well but didn't move on to university immediately, taking a few temporary jobs. Your underachieving continued through university where you were recruited by Torchwood London before graduating for your nearly eidetic memory. Yvonne Hartman wouldn't have wasted you in the research department. She would have used you in any way she could and fed you a steady diet of Queen and Country. Sound about right?"

"Care to delve into my family history as well?" he snapped a little. When he saw the glare she was giving him, he added, "Sorry."

"It's all right," Miranda said. "Go on, take them coffee. Gwen and Fish un-caffeinated is a frightening prospect."


	11. Chapter 11

Kiernan Davies tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for his requests. He'd put them in nearly an hour ago. He had no idea what was taking so long. He'd been waiting at the Watcher library counter, nervously glancing at his watch every few minutes. He didn't have long and he had no idea how much time all this research would take. No one was watching Miranda and Ianto. If something happened while he was gone, Kiernan could face disciplinary action and even worse, have his field certification revoked permanently. He was taking a risk but he knew that Ianto Jones had just come into play and that Miranda would be taking extra precautions. There were no indications that any of the other immortals in UK were moving anywhere near the vicinity of Cardiff. In fact, Kiernan had gone as far as to check the movement database for the whole of Europe and he was absolutely certain that for the next forty eight hours, there would be only four immortals in Cardiff - Oren Connolly, Jacob Rosen, Chen Mao-Lin and Ianto Jones. With that certainty under his belt, he had gotten on the train to London and checked himself into a cheap hotel. He'd arrived at the Watcher's UK headquarters and had headed straight for the library.

"Kiernan? What are you doing here?" came a familiar female voice.

Kiernan rolled his eyes. The voice belonged to Moira Jenkins, a squat woman about ten years his senior who had harbored a bit of a crush on him when they'd worked in the research department together.

"Just looking a few things up, Moira," he said tersely.

"Thought us lot in research were too good for you… bright shiny mister field agent," she said with a smile.

The librarian called out his name and nodded, holding out a small USB drive. _Perfect timing…_ "Sorry, Moira, I can't talk, I'm pressed for time," he said.

"You doing more research on Chen's chronicle?" she asked, pointing at the drive.

"A bit, yeah," he said, looping the drive's strap around his wrist and signing his name to the request.

"I heard you talk to her, all friendly like. You shouldn't do that you know. They could pull you off her," Moira said, crossing her arms over her chest. "No more fancy mister field agent."

"It's not like that, Moira," Kiernan said with an eye roll. "If I'm friendly, maybe she'll tell me something real."

"What? About Qin Shi Huang? Or maybe Queen Mary?" Moira said sarcastically.

"Maybe," Kiernan said. "Sorry, Moira, I really have to dash."

He didn't care if he was being rude. He pushed past Moira, and walked off to one of the private research rooms. He shut himself in and locked the door. He inserted the drive into the research unit and it sprang to life, quickly downloading the drive's contents. The Watchers were well funded and their equipment was state of the art. All original paper chronicles were in the climate controlled archives in France. Every single piece of paper had been digitally scanned at the highest quality. There was no more crumbling paper or cotton gloves or turning pages with spatulas. Everything was done on the touch screen. Kiernan could manipulate the documents how ever he wanted with no thought of damaging the original. He could view the front and back of a page simultaneously. He could have several different pages, all within the same book, open at once. And he could flip back and forth to his heart's content, without a single worry of damaging the original document. Every manipulation was done on the nearly wall sized touch screen in front of him. Displayed currently were the ten separate materials he had been given to fulfill his request. The early volumes Chen Mao-Lin's chronicle and nine ambiguous chronicles.

Chen Mao-Lin's chronicle was one of the pride and joys of the Watcher archives. It was one of the few female chronicles from so far back. Most chronicles had massive gaps until the industrial revolution but Chen Mao-Lin's chronicle was an exception to that. The Watchers hadn't been greatly organised until after the invention of the printing press in the fifteenth century and Chen Mao-Lin's chronicle was largely complete after that. Shockingly enough, even her abduction from China had been recorded. In the sixteenth century, such an event should have spelled the end of a chronicle but The Bristol, the ship that had brought her to England had had an immortal on it. Adaf Terfel, a Welshman masquerading as an English sailor, had had a Watcher who had sailed with him. The two years detailing her time aboard the ship were a nauseating read. What also made Chen Mao-Lin's chronicle exceptional, was how much information they had managed to piece together before the fifteenth century. Due to her association with the famous emperor, they had been able to piece together information about her mortal life as well as some of her early immortal life.

Kiernan knew Chen Mao-Lin's chronicle backwards and forwards. He'd studied it for so long that he'd memorized every detail. After her first death, Chen Mao-Lin lived quietly for four hundred years, taking only two heads. Then she had travelled north into Mongolia, joining the army of Genghis Khan and rode to war in the Mongol invasions. And that had always bothered him. It didn't make a lot of sense. The female elite of Mongolia were afforded a great deal more freedom than other women of the time and they were militarily trained but Chen Mao-Lin would have been an outsider. How would a woman of Chinese descent, a courtesan, prove herself to the elite battle force that almost took over the world? Surely it wasn't her skills in the bedroom.

Since Chen Mao-Lin's teacher had been Jing Ke, no one questioned that her training had been exceptional and that Jing Ke had trained his young female student in more than just the Game and the sword. But after Jing Ke was killed, his chronicle came under scrutiny. The documents that had been used to prove Chen Mao-Lin was Jing Ke's student came under fire and several of the documents were dismissed. It was now ambiguous as to whether or not Chen Mao-Lin was Jing Ke's student or had merely been warming Jing Ke's bed for her own protection, a common method of survival for female immortals in antiquity. Kiernan was already suspicious about the chronicle. Adding fuel to the fire had been her first death information. It was inconsistent with what he knew about the treatment of courtesans and concubines of the time. Kiernan had begun to formulate the theory that Chen Mao-Lin was not who she appeared.

Which is why he had requested every ambiguous female chronicle from between five hundred BC and one thousand AD. He had received nine. They weren't true chronicles. They were stories or folklore or pieces of lost documents. Some were little more than apocryphal tales. These women weren't even known to have truly existed and so they were filed in obscurity. Kiernan didn't know what he was hoping to find but he sat down and started to read the translations nonetheless.

As the day wore on, he returned most of the ambiguous chronicles and requested more, going further back. He was looking for anything similar to connect any of them to Chen Mao-Lin's chronicle looking at patterns of behavior and geographic movements. By the time the library was nearly closing, Kiernan felt that he was on to something. He had uncovered a pattern of geographic movement across the India and Pakistan, stretching back across Iraq and Iran and all the way to the Etruscan civilistion in Italy around seven hundred BC. He may not have uncovered Chen Mao-Lin but he may have stumbled onto someone else.

Frustrated that he had to halt his search, Kiernan returned to his hotel and tossed and turned all night in the lumpy bed, staring at the ceiling until eventually falling into a fitful sleep. He arrived at the library the moment it opened and started back at work, piecing together more and more pieces of his geographic pattern. And the more half myths and tales he read, the more startling the picture he was uncovering became. If he was right, he'd discovered an immortal woman who had existed for thousands of years across antiquity which was more than exceedingly rare… it was nearly unprecedented. Even today, immortal men outnumbered immortal women twenty to one.

The further back he went, the more Kiernan began to think he was deluded, grabbing at straws and imagining things. He had discovered an immortal woman who, if she was alive today, would be nearly four thousand years old. The Watchers called the oldest immortals the Lord and Lady Methuselah, a biblical reference. Currently, Methos held the title of Lord Methuselah, an immortal man over five thousand years old. The Watchers currently believed an immortal woman named Cassandra was the oldest female, at nearly twenty five hundred years old. Their information on Cassandra was erroneous.

Before delving further into the obscure past, Kiernan hoped to piece together more of a concrete future for this unknown woman. He had stumbled upon her around thirteenth century China, so he tried to pick up her trail there, but the trail went cold. Frustrated, he assumed that she must have been taken and started to dig harder, looking for the immortal who had killed her. He wasn't surprised when he found nothing. Chronicles from that period were sketchy and incomplete or nonexistent. He chuckled for a minute, it was almost as if this woman had disappeared just as Chen Mao-Lin had…

Kiernan felt everything line up in his head and he took two rapid steps back from the touch screen. It wasn't this mysterious woman who had disappeared. It had been Chen Mao-Lin who had vanished and this mysterious woman had risen up in her place. Kiernan had to marvel at it. It was perfect. He had traced this mysterious immortal woman back four thousand years. What better way to protect yourself than to convince the others you were poorer game, just old enough to be a threat but not old enough to actively pursue. It would explain Chen Mao-Lin's mysterious flight north and her change from quiet courtesan to Mongol warrior woman. The realisation lit a fire under Kiernan and he started to put in more requests for solid, true chronicles of immortals dating back to a thousand BC that crossed the geographic path he'd laid. There were only a handful. Any immortals that had lived and died back then had done so before the existence of the Watchers and their stories were lost forever. Any living immortals who were alive three thousand years ago were few and far between. Taking a chance, Kiernan had even requested the Methos Chronicle and that was when an e-mail alert was sent to Joe Dawson.


	12. Chapter 12

The entire Torchwood team was gathered in the boardroom in their usual seats. Miranda was trying to ignore the fact that Ianto's chair wasn't angled towards Jack. The young Welshman always tilted his chair towards Jack at a near perfect forty five degree angle so that his dress shoe touched Jack's boot under the table. Usually when the two lovers quarreled, there was nothing more than a little bit of awkwardness hanging in the air. This was different. The strain between the two men was growing to a near breaking point. They were nothing but polite and civil to each other but a profound sadness hung around both men, blanketing them like an icy snow. It had sucked all the warmth out of Jack's eyes and all the wit from Ianto's voice. Ianto hid in the archives and Jack in his office. Ianto was going out of his way to be as invisible as possible and Jack hadn't even been yelling at the politicians. To make matters worse, the case thrown their way by UNIT was complex and scratching at wounds that the entire Torchwood team had thought long healed. They were all sitting in silence waiting for Jack to begin the briefing but the Torchwood captain was sitting in his chair trying not to look in Ianto's direction.

Miranda turned in her chair and said, "Fish? You want to start us off?"

Fish cleared his throat and began, "Three days ago, UNIT sent us a package of various industrial innovations that were due to hit the market recently, a lubricant, a battery and a soil additive along with all the research and development documentation that came with them. I won't go into the chemical analysis or my other findings. No offence, it's over your heads. The documentation history pretty much explained everything to me because there hasn't been a bit of fantasy written that well since Tolkien."

He tapped the tablet in front of him. The display across the room came alive with pictures.

"The lubricant. It's non-petroleum based and the manufacturer claims it was an accidental discovery, that an error was made when attempting to synthesize a surficant resulting in this," Fish said, sliding his finger along the tablet to bring up a picture and graph. "It's a chemical lubricant that drops the coefficient of friction nearly to zero. This material would do nothing short of revolutionising industry. Given the clever piece of fiction that came with this one, my guess is that this was reverse engineered from some sort of alien technology."

Fish tapped the tablet and slid his finger along it again. The pictures on the display changed. "This is a soil additive similar to our current inorganic and organic fertilizers with one exception… it doesn't require natural gas to produce. The documentation is, again, a fairy tale but not as clever as the previous one. Because the leap here is greater, the fiction is less believable."

"How so?" Gwen asked.

"There is no machinery anywhere on Earth that can do what this documentation claims. The machinery itself would be a revolutionary idea, not the product. My guess is that they have an alien device or machine that is producing this one. It's something they can't reverse engineer so they're just trying to make a profit on the product."

"And last but certainly not least…" he said, not without some anger, tapping the tablet and sliding his finger across the screen. "We have the battery. This is what I used to do before I joined you lot. I was researching the next big thing in hybrid car batteries and this is way past it. This battery is nothing short of miraculous. I spent twenty fucking years of my life looking for something like that and it's sitting on my sodding work table."

Miranda's heart went out to him. The secrecy often frustrated Fish especially when something like this came through. Fish was a man who had dedicated his life before Torchwood to trying to save the world from itself and here was something that could do that. Now it would be locked away, hidden in the Torchwood archive never to be seen or used.

"Sorry," Fish said, hanging his head.

"It's okay, Fish. Go on," Miranda said.

With an angry sigh, Fish continued. "This battery works at an incredible efficiency and recharges more fully than any battery on the whole planet. The only drawback is that with our current manufacturing technology, it is ridiculously expensive to produce. The documentation for the battery is the most clever of all three and the only reason I recognised it as rubbish is because this was my fucking life's work. There are some intuitive leaps and assumptions that I, nor any other scientist in this field on the whole fucking planet, would ever have made. Either those leaps came from something alien or were made because of something alien. All of the items are from the same company, Hector Woodon Industries."

Miranda was about to open her mouth to turn the floor over to Ianto but Jack beat her to it.

"Ianto?" Jack said and everyone in the room could hear the pain in Jack's voice.

Ianto stood up without looking at Jack. The whole team felt a slight chill descend in the room. Ianto's voice was strained and lacked its normal force. "I was reading through the documentation and I remembered something I'd seen at Torchwood One. A terraforming satellite had fallen through the rift back in the seventies and One had requested it. It was one of Hartman's pet projects - world improvement for the good of the British Empire. She had some researchers working with the satellite to see if it could be used to improve soil quality in areas not normally conducive to agriculture, deserts and the like. I don't know if the project went anywhere but I did some digging in our own archives in the files we scavenged after the Battle of Canary Wharf. We have none of those files."

Miranda turned in her chair, her fingers steepled in front of her. "That doesn't mean anything, Ifan. Most of One was destroyed."

Ianto shook his head. "Hartman had a number of 'world improvement' projects going and they were all kept together. She was in charge of Torchwood but she didn't have authorisation from the Crown for these types of projects because Torchwood's mandate was defence so she kept them under the table. And the best way to look for something like that-"

"Is to follow the money," Gwen interjected.

"Precisely. I combed through some of One's old accounting files and Hartman's personal accounts as well. There was an old Torchwood One holding facility that had been leased from the government. When the lease was up, it wasn't renewed but the government sold the property to Hartman personally," Ianto said. "When I started looking at her personal financials, I found a now defunct corporation along with records of payments to personnel and security, even receipts for equipment."

"So what's our theory here? Yvonne Hartman returned from the grave?" Miranda said skeptically.

Ianto shook his head. "We must have missed something when we scavenged the wreckage of One. Someone from One knew these technologies existed and where to find them and is using them now for personal or financial gain."

"So one of the survivors?" Gwen asked and Ianto nodded.

"It is the most likely scenario. There were eight hundred and twenty three people working at Canary Wharf and there are only twenty seven known survivors, myself included," Ianto continued. Fish passed Ianto the tablet and he tapped the screen. Twenty seven pictures appeared on the display, Ianto's face looked at all of them from the center. He had alphabetised them by last name.

"Eleven have committed suicide by various methods," he said, tapping the screen and eleven images disappeared.

"Eight reside permanently in psychiatric facilities across the UK," he said tapping again and the eight images disappeared. Eight images remained. Ianto tapped the screen and then spread his fingers to enlarge the images.

"Four men, four women. I'll go through the ones we know about first," Ianto said, pointing at each one as he spoke. "Alyssa Durand, age twenty nine, worked in accounting. She's currently under home psychiatric care for severe agoraphobia. She resides in Leeds. Anna Crissen, age thirty seven. She also worked in accounting. She still lives in London but is also under home psychiatric care for severe agoraphobia. Both women are unable to leave their homes. Lauren Smith, age twenty two. She actually didn't work for Torchwood One, she was in the building meeting her boyfriend for lunch. He was converted. She's currently living with her parents after being recently incarcerated for heroin possession and prostitution. Kathy Wold, age fifty. She was one of the management PA's. She is currently in hospital for end stage liver failure secondary to alcoholism. Brian McCullen, age twenty four, he was a low level researcher. He's currently confined to a rehabilitation facility for methamphetamine abuse."

Each picture vanished in turn and now the only three images were two other men and Ianto. "Myself," he said, tapping the screen again, separating his image from the other two and the names appeared under the images as they enlarged. "And these two men. Carl Brogen and Lawrence Hastings."

"I didn't know either man personally, only in passing. Lawrence Hastings, age sixty, was middle management in the accounting department. Carl Brogen, age thirty four, was a low level paper pusher in research." Ianto said, indicating each man in turn.

Miranda took in the faces of both men. Lawrence Hastings was a middle aged man with a thin face and greying hair. Carl Brogen had dark hair and a round face with a beard. Miranda's contact with Torchwood One had been extremely limited, she knew neither man.

"Where are they now, Ifan?" Miranda asked.

"Like all survivors of the Battle, Brogen and Hastings were offered a government payoff or monthly stipend-"

"Neither of which you took," Miranda pointed out.

"Most of us refused it," Ianto said a little defensively. He hadn't wanted the government's blood money.

"Christ, all those lives," Fish said. "The government didn't offer retcon?"

"They did," Ianto said angrily, "but it wasn't until nearly a year after the battle, after most of the suicides had occurred. And there was a catch."

"Which was?" Gwen asked.

"The retcon dosage offered wasn't to wipe out memories of just the battle. The only way the government would allow the retcon was if it was used to wipe out memories of Torchwood entirely," Ianto said. "One didn't have our… turnover. So, in most of the cases, that meant years, sometimes decades of life. Anna Crissen, for example, worked for Torchwood for nearly eight years. She had a two year old daughter at the time and since retcon isn't selective, if she'd accepted it, she would have lost all memory of her daughter."

"So most of the survivors refused," Fish said.

"We all did," Ianto said. "Brogen refused both the lump sum pay off and the monthly stipend. Hastings accepted the lump sum and relocated to America. The whereabouts of both men are currently unknown."

"I'm looking into it already, Evie. As you know I'm quite adept at following money trails," Fish said with a wink. It was how Fish had originally discovered Miranda's immortality, following the trail of her leaving her estate to herself.

"So these are our prime suspects," Miranda said, "Brogen and Hastings and-"

"And myself," Ianto said.

"Don't be ridiculous, Yan," Jack said, hotly.

"He's right, Jack," Gwen said.

Jack gave Gwen a death glare but the former PC ignored it.

With a dispassionate tone, Gwen said, "These people have taken technology from One and reverse engineered it. Not only that but they've reverse engineered some of the most marketable technologies. They're selling it. These aren't people with severe PTSD or addicts. They're organised. They're capable. They're-"

"Me," Ianto said simply.

"Exactly," Gwen said. "Sorry, Ianto."

The whole room fell silent as all eyes fell on Jack. When the immortal man said nothing, Miranda stood up, taking charge. "UNIT stumbled onto this case but it's ours now. We need to clean house. Fish, keep digging into Hastings and Brogen, find what you can. Ianto, effective immediately you're removed from active duty, paid suspension. I'll need your credentials and your gun. I can't bar you access to the Hub since you live here but you are confined to the north sub-basement and you are not to wander into the main Hub alone. Gwen? Our job is to clear Ianto so we can get him back before the lack of caffeine kills us all. Okay everyone, let's move and Jack? I need a private word in your office please."

Miranda walked through the main Hub with a very meek looking Jack behind her. When they reached his office, Miranda shut the door behind her and rounded on him.

"What's going on with you and Ifan, Jack?" she demanded.

"Stay out of it, Will," he snapped but there was little bite behind it.

"Normally, I would. But normally your domestics don't spill out into work this badly. It's becoming intolerable for all of us. What did you do?" she snapped back.

"What makes you think _I_ did something?" he shouted, his temper flaring. "_He_ moved out."

"And why did _he_ do that, Jack?" she asked angrily.

"I let him go," Jack said sadly, suddenly looking deflated, like a small boy.

"What?" she shouted.

Still sounding meek, Jack said, "He's immortal now. He has all the time in the world. You think he needs to stay here? There's a whole world out there for him. What right do I have to keep him here?"

"Goddess below, how thick are you two?! He loves you, Jack! And you love him! That's reason enough!"

"That's rich, coming from you! What about Nora? You walked away from her!"

Miranda's own temper flared. This situation was completely different. "Don't you dare bring up Nora to me. She asked me to leave so I did. It was what she wanted."

"He wouldn't have left if it wasn't what he wanted. He doesn't need to stay here!" Jack shouted. "There's so much more for him out there! He doesn't need to settle for me anymore!"

"Settle?!" Miranda shrieked. "You forget, Jack Harkness, I have six fucking years under my belt of being married to your sorry arse! And that was more than enough time for me to learn that you're not an easy man to live with! There is abso-fucking-lutely nothing convenient about you, Jack. You think a handsome man like Ianto Jones is settling for you? Your mind blowing sexual prowess aside, do you think he's stuck by you through everything because you're easy or convenient?! Have you completely taken leave of your senses?!"

Miranda was trembling with rage. She hadn't had anything like what Jack and Ianto shared in centuries. The idea that they were both throwing it away because they were being stubborn asses was too much for her. Jack opened his mouth to speak but Miranda shouted over him.

"Don't you dare speak! He loves you, Jack! He loves you with everything he is. He's probably concocted some daft reason of his own for walking out on you. By all the Gods and Goddesses above and below, I swear, you are going to talk to that man and you two are going to fix this even if I have to lock the two of you in one of the cells until you do it."

Without another word, Miranda spun on her heel and left Jack standing in his office. She had another pigheaded idiot to deal with. She slammed Jack's office door behind her and stormed across the Hub. Gwen and Fish knew better than to try to catch her eye. She went down the north stairs and turned right at the t-junction, feeling Ianto's presence blossom in her head. She walked past her rooms and down the staircase to the staterooms. There were six rooms, each resembling a small hotel room. Only one door was open, the first one on her right. She inhaled sharply and then exhaled slowly as she rolled her shoulders and felt the anger deflate a little.

When she stepped through the door, Ianto was standing there holding out his credentials and gun for her.

"Are you all right? This can't be easy for you," she said, laying a hand on his arm.

"Canary Wharf was a long time ago, Mandy," he said.

"There are many things that were a long time ago for me, Ifan. That doesn't mean they are forgotten or hurt any less. Whoever came up with the saying 'time heals all wounds' wasn't immortal," she paused taking a deep breath. "Some things become like the ebb and flow of the sea. Sometimes the surf and the wind blows furiously trying to swallow you up and drag you down and sometimes it's calm, only lapping at the edges of your mind but like the sea, it never stops."

Ianto sat down at the small table, scrubbing at his face. "I buried Lisa. I moved on. I put it behind me."

"And now it's in front of you again," she said

He nodded and ran his fingers through his hair. "I was so fucking angry when they offered me money. Like money could replace what I'd lost… what _any_ of us had lost…" He brought his fist down on the table with a thud.

Miranda sat down opposite Ianto, listening to him and offering silent support.

"They dragged it all up again when they offered me the retcon. Those bastards didn't even offer it to me directly, they did it through Jack," Ianto said angrily as he toed off his shoes. "Some bollocks about me still being a Torchwood employee."

"Did you consider it?" Miranda asked even though she knew the answer.

Ianto shook his head. "Not for one bloody minute. I met Lisa there. I would have lost all my memories of her and they were all I had left."

"I'm sorry this is all being brought up again," she said.

Ianto got up and started to pace the room. "Those fucking bastards are trying to make a profit standing on the graves of hundreds of people!"

"We'll find them, Ifan," she said.

"I know you will. And I'm stuck down here. I can't even help!" he shouted. He turned and kicked the bed so hard the mattress shifted.

"A temporary inconvenience, Ifan. For what it's worth, I know that it's not you," she said softly.

Ianto's anger seemed to deflate now that he'd vented a little.

"Mandy, I'm the prime suspect. Motive. Means. Opportunity," Ianto said, shrugging out of his suit jacket and draping it across the small chair. He hooked a finger into his tie to loosen it. "My finances are a mess. I'm deeply in debt from when I had to take care of Lisa. I'm still living in the UK. I'm still working for Torchwood. I have the wherewithal and the organisational skills to mastermind all of it. I also have access to more alien technology because I'm in charge of the archives here."

"I know all these things, Ifan but I know that it isn't you," she said. "I've been alive a long time. I think I know a thing or two about people."

"This from a woman who was married to a man for six years but didn't realise he was an immortal time traveller from the future?" Ianto teased, sitting down and flashing her a smile.

"Yes, forgive me. Back in 1926, my mind didn't immediately gravitate to something I'd read in a science fiction novel," she said with an eye roll.

Miranda was loathed to bring up the next subject since she'd just managed to get Ianto to calm down but she couldn't ignore the perfect segue.

"What's going on with you and Jack, Ifan? Why are you sleeping down here?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Mandy," Ianto said. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands.

"I let it go last night, Ifan but I can't now. What ever's going on between you and Jack is negatively impacting the team. What's going on?"

"We're just taking a little break is all," he repeated.

"You forget I live in this underground hole with the two of you. The longest 'break' I've seen the two of you take is your refractory period between round three and round four," she snapped. When he didn't answer her, she said, "Ifan, please."

"I don't want to hold him back anymore, Mandy," he said, softly.

"What are you talking about?" Miranda asked. It was almost the same exact reason she'd just heard from Jack. "How are you holding that man back? As if anyone could?"

"He was humouring me, all these years that it's been just the two of us," Ianto said with a sigh. "He knew fidelity was what I wanted so he gave it to me. We never talked about it. We didn't need to. We both knew it wouldn't be for long. No one gets out of Torchwood alive. Well, with two notable exceptions… three now…"

"You're telling me you walked out on Jack because you think he wants to sleep around?!" Miranda roared. The anger she'd smothered before she'd walked into this room returned ten fold and she sprang to her feet. _The daft pricks! _"Have you completely taken leave of your senses?!"

"You were married to him, Mandy! You know he doesn't believe in monogamy. He doesn't see the point!"

"And this is why the two of you needed to have that discussion instead of letting it just be some sort of unspoken agreement!" she shouted. "You're looking at fifty first century values through twenty first century eyes!"

"Oh here we go about modern labels and quaint categories. I swear the two of you-"

"Shut it, Ifan," she snapped. "This has nothing to do with that. You need to talk to him. You need him to explain to you how he sees it."

"I know how-"

"No!" she shouted. "You don't! You're assuming! You see how he acts and you see how he behaves and you're making assumptions and I am, quite fucking frankly, shocked! I thought you knew Jack better than this! At some point, you two need to talk and I mean really talk or I swear, by all the Gods and Goddesses above and below I will lock the two of you in a cell until you do. And in case you're wondering, now that I've spoken to both of you, that is not an idle threat."

"You've talked to Jack?" Ianto gasped.

"Yes, Ifan, I've talked to Jack which is something the two of you should have done and I can tell you right now, you're both being fools and once you finally talk about this you'll realise just how thick you're being," she snapped.

"What did he say?" he whispered.

"Do I look like an owl? Go and talk to him yourself!" she snapped and stormed from the room.


	13. Chapter 13

The next morning at five, Miranda stood alone in the gym. The day before had been tense and stressful. Gwen and Miranda had worked all day to exonerate Ianto and had come up with nothing. Desperate to get him back working on the case, Miranda had asked Fish to stay late, hoping his superior skills would be the key and they had been. Fish had hacked into the financials of Hector Woodon Industries and the company had already received several large advanced payments for the technologies that were now upstairs on Fish's work table. The payments had immediately vanished and after combing through Ianto's personal finances, Fish could find no indication that Ianto had any more money than previously.

Miranda had even placed a call to her financial agent, Arthur Meredith, making some not so discrete inquiries about Ianto's finances. Meredith had sadly informed Miranda that Ianto's finances were a mess and he was in the middle of an extensive plan to get Ianto out of debt. He'd also told Miranda that Ianto had been managing on his own so far but that it was a good thing Ianto was immortal as it would likely be a long time before the young man was debt free. Miranda had been shocked. Ianto had minimal living expenses. He still maintained his flat but Miranda knew that Ianto expensed the rent, utilities and upkeep as Torchwood often used the flat as a safe house. Most of the young man's meals were eaten with the team on Torchwood's expense account. The only personal expenses Meredith had told Miranda about were Ianto's personal car, his clothing, other minor expenses and a small portion of his salary that the young man put into savings for his niece and nephew. Miranda knew that Jack couldn't possibly know about Ianto's financial situation. Both she and Jack were personally wealthy but Ianto Jones was a proud man. He would never accept charity from either immortal.

She glanced up at the clock. It was now ten past five. With a sigh, Miranda stood up from the bench and walked down the hallway. She went into her rooms and took out a pitcher. She filled it with water and ice and carried it downstairs to the staterooms. The door to the room Ianto had chosen was still open and the light was off. Miranda listened and heard nothing. She prayed that when she pushed the door back, she'd find Jack and Ianto in the bed together but that wasn't what she saw. Ianto was alone, asleep in the bed, nude, a bottle of whisky open on the bedside table. He hadn't even woken when he'd sensed her presence. Miranda rolled her eyes at the sight before dumping the ice cold water across Ianto's bare backside. The Welshman yelped and sputtered, rolling out of the bed and hitting the floor with a dull thud.

"Jesus Christ, Mandy, what the fuck?!" he shouted.

"It's ten past five, Ifan," she said simply. "I expect you in the gym in five minutes."

Without another word, she turned and walked from the room back towards the gym, leaving the pitcher on her kitchen counter on the way. Precisely five minutes after she'd doused him, Ianto walked through the gym door, still struggling with his t-shirt. She had felt him, of course, the moment he'd neared the room. If it had been further on his training, Miranda would have made Ianto pay for his tardiness with more than an ice cold pitcher of water. She likely would have attacked Ianto the moment he entered the gym or run the young immortal until he nearly dropped but Ianto had been immortal for only five days. The case they were working on was reopening old wounds and, to make matters worse, Ianto's relationship with Jack was in shambles.

"I'm sorry," he said as he tugged the shirt down.

She only glared at him and started to take him through his sword lesson. It was still so early in his training that Miranda was going very easy on him. In fact, Miranda barely taxed the young Welshman today but given his exhaustion and the possibility that he was nursing a slight hangover, Ianto became worn out quickly.

"Christ, this thing is heavy," he said, laying the blade on the bench. He let out a sudden yelp as a muscle in his shoulder cramped at the movement.

"You'll grow stronger with time," she said, digging her elbow into the knot.

He sighed as the cramp lessened. "Thanks."

She patted his shoulder. "After you get cleaned up, I have your credentials and your gun for you."

"You cleared me?" he said eagerly.

Miranda nodded. "Hector Woodon Industries has received several advanced payments for their new technologies. Those payments have already been withdrawn."

"And my debts haven't changed," Ianto said simply.

"No, they haven't," Miranda said. "Ifan-"

"Don't, Mandy," he snapped. "Sorry, I appreciate the offer but I can take care of it myself."

"You didn't accumulate these debts by being careless," she said.

"That's not the point," he said. "I got myself into it and I can get myself out."

"Of that there was never a doubt, but try to look at it from an immortal perspective, Ifan," she said, as she stood up to knead at his shoulders again.

"What do you mean?" he asked, looking up at her.

"I know you're putting aside money for your niece and nephew and that that money is limited by your debts. If you take the whole of what would have been your mortal lifespan to pay off those debts then what you can will to your family is limited. If you allow me to settle your debts, you can take centuries to pay me or you can wait to pay me until after your niece and nephew have passed on."

Ianto took a minute to process what Miranda was saying. "But I'm not going to die, Mandy."

"Legally, every so often, you have to. Whatever you tell your family or whether or not you remain in Cardiff, after a normal human lifespan, Ianto Jones will need to die on paper and you'll need to assume a new name and identity. At that point, whatever you've willed to your family will pass to them. Everything on paper needs to look normal, Ifan, regardless of the reality."

In the past, Miranda had changed names simply by packing up and moving to another place. Sometimes she feigned her death and sometimes she didn't. In this new modern era, assuming a new identity wasn't as simple.

Ianto shook his head. He had been thinking about everything in mortal terms. He could possibly live for centuries and it opened up a whole new way of thinking and viewing everything.

"Let me think about it, Mandy, yeah? The debt just can't magically disappear either…" Ianto trailed off, the wheels of his mind turning. "Have you looked into Brogen and Hastings financials?"

"Of course, it's the simplest way to track them," Miranda said. "Fish is looking into it."

"I think I need to go into the alien technology business," Ianto said.

"What?"

"My debts! They're the key to flushing out Brogen and Hastings. I can try to sell them a piece of alien tech from the archives. It's perfect," Ianto exclaimed.

"We're not exactly there yet, Ifan. We have no idea if they're responsible, plus you've worked for this agency for years with that debt, why would you suddenly wake up one day and decide to raid the archives?" Miranda said.

"We already have the perfect cover story there. Me and Jack," Ianto said, hanging his head. "Everything that made me the perfect suspect will make the perfect cover story."

"It's a brilliant plan, Ifan, but we're not there yet," Miranda said as let go of Ianto's shoulders and sat down. "I'm guessing you haven't talked to Jack?"

Ianto shook his head and Miranda saw him swallow. "He wasn't here last night. He went out."

"Ifan…" she started.

"Yes, he was probably on a rooftop," Ianto said, holding up his hand. "I know you're only trying to help, Mandy, but, please, ease up a little, yeah?"

Miranda stood up again, putting her arms around Ianto's shoulders and kissing the top of his head. "I love you both very much and it breaks my heart seeing the two of you in this state."

She stepped back. "Let's get cleaned up and find a bit of breakfast."

After the two of them had taken quick showers, Miranda suggested they get out of the Hub and head to a small cafe in Butetown for breakfast. Since he'd become immortal, Ianto had been a virtual prisoner inside the Hub, rarely leaving. They'd ordered a full Welsh breakfast each and were eating slowly, enjoying the morning. He wasn't really partial to such heavy food in the morning or ate like this often. His breakfast was usually nothing more than coffee, a piece of fruit and some toast. _One of the perks I suppose… not like it's going to give me a heart attack…_ Ianto had eaten a fair amount, his appetite still hadn't returned to normal. So much was different and there were so many questions swirling through him. A morbid curiosity overtook him.

"Something on your mind, Ifan?" Miranda asked, wiping her mouth and sipping her coffee.

"I don't know if I should ask," he said. "It's personal."

Miranda raised an eyebrow. "You're my student and my friend, Ifan. You're welcome to ask me anything you wish."

"How did you die? The first time, I mean?" he asked softly and Miranda's mug slipped from her hand, spilling coffee across their table. The waitress appeared almost immediately with napkins to sop up the mess.

"I'm sorry," Miranda said.

"Don't worry about it," the waitress said with a smile, clearing away the sodden napkins and wiping the table clean. She produced another mug of coffee for Miranda and went to see to her other customers.

"Sorry, Mandy, I shouldn't have asked," he said.

"It's fine, Ifan," she said. "It isn't a pleasant tale."

"I figured," he said.

Miranda glanced around and saw Kiernan sitting not far from them, tucking into his own food. She gave Ianto a loaded glance and then flicked her eyes to where Kiernan was sitting. Ianto nodded and knew the subject would be revisited at another time. The two of them got up and settled their bill. They started to walk back to Ianto's car. Kiernan also got up from his meal, dropped a few notes onto the table and followed them. Ianto dramatically opened the passenger door for Miranda who giggled. She was about to stoop to get in when a sudden pressure blossomed between her temples.

"Don't move, Ifan. Don't react in any way," she snapped quickly as she stood up and looked around, her hand in her coat. She saw Methos standing at the end of the street, blowing his nose into a green handkerchief.

"Get in the car. Drive to the South Wales Islamic center, it's up Alice street. We need to lose Kiernan," Miranda said.

Ianto moved normally, trying not to indicate anything was amiss. He got behind the wheel and drove off at a leisurely pace towards the Hub. In the wing mirror, Ianto saw Kiernan following the car on foot a short ways, just enough to be confident that they were heading back to the Hub. Once Kiernan was out of sight, he doubled back and headed for the mosque. Miranda dug into her purse and took out a long scarf that she proceeded to drape over her head as Ianto parked the car.

"Why are we here, Mandy?" Ianto asked.

"Adam. I saw him outside the cafe. We have a code that uses simple handkerchief colours. He was using a green one which means I am to meet him immediately at the nearest place of Islamic worship. Violet for Catholic, red for Protestant, blue for Jewish and white for a cemetery."

Ianto's eyes widened at the simplicity of it. "Do you want me to wait here?"

"No, I don't know why he wants to meet. I don't want to leave you out here alone even if holy ground is a few steps away. We should both go inside," she said, tucking the scarf end in so it wouldn't come undone and got out of the car. The two immortals walked towards the building and stepped into the entryway.

"Shoes, Ifan," Miranda said, as she started to unlace her boots. She took her weapons out and dumped them into her bag.

"I am familiar with the basics of Islam, thanks, Mandy," Ianto said with a sarcastic eye roll as he unlaced his shoes, depositing them on one of the shelves.

"You should familiarise yourself with all the world's religions, major and minor. We use holy ground regularly and we must be respectful," she said.

Miranda turned down the corridor towards the prayer room with Ianto on her heels. She got less than halfway to the prayer room's door when she felt the presence of another immortal in her head. Three men stepped out of the prayer room. Miranda and Ianto recognised Methos and MacLeod of course but the third man was new to them. He was using a crutch but Miranda knew that didn't mean he wasn't an immortal, the infirmity could be feigned.

"There are worshipers in the prayer room," Duncan said as he opened a door to a smaller room so they could speak undisturbed. It appeared to be a unused conference room.

After the five of them were secure in the room, the unknown man turned to Miranda and held out his hand. Miranda noted the Watcher tattoo on the inside of his wrist.

"Joe Dawson," he said.

"Chen Mao-Lin," she said. "This is Ianto Jones."

"Good to meet you," Dawson said, holding his hand out to Ianto who grasped it firmly.

"What's all this about Adam?" Miranda asked turning to Methos.

"You can speak freely, Mei," Methos said and Miranda's eyes blazed.

"If we were not on holy ground, I would rip your lungs up through your throat!" Miranda hissed. "What have you told him?!"

"He knows everything," Methos said.

"He's a Watcher," Miranda snapped. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"You can trust him, Mei," Duncan said soothingly.

Stepping forward, Ianto demanded, "Will one of you please tell us what's going on?"

"What do you know about Kiernan Davies?" Dawson asked.

"He's my Watcher," Miranda said.

"Err, mine too," Ianto said.

Methos and Duncan both turned to Ianto with wide looks and then they both glared at Miranda.

"Sorry I hadn't gotten around to having the announcements engraved yet. It's a boy," she said sarcastically and ignored Ianto's slight bristling. "What about Kiernan?"

"He was a gifted student, top grades. Got accepted to the Oriental studies program at Oxford, focused on Near East history. We recruited him straight out of school for the research department," Dawson said. "After just a year in research, he applied for field training and he applied every year for three years until they accepted him. After he got certified, he wanted only one assignment. You."

"Yes, he has an excellent stalker CV," Miranda said with an eye roll. "The point, Mr. Dawson?"

"Kiernan requested the Methos Chronicle two days ago from the Watcher Library in London," Dawson said. "I have the chronicle flagged. Anyone asks for it, I know about it. I checked into his other requests. He asked for your chronicle along with a few other questionable chronicles of female immortals dating from between one thousand AD and as far back as we go."

"He's fishing for something," Miranda said, her mind starting to turn to figure out precisely what.

"And we think he's caught you," Methos sneered.

"What?" Miranda said. "That's not possible."

"The kid's smart," Dawson said. "Research didn't want to give him up to field. He's good with the big picture, connecting dots that no one else sees until after they're all lined up. They were going to put him on the Methos Chronicle and that piece only gets the best of the best."

"Oh stop looking so smug, like you're some sort of celebrity," Miranda said sarcastically at Methos.

"Did I say anything?" he said with a smirk.

"Why is this Methos Chronicle so important? Who is this person?" Ianto asked.

"Methos is the oldest of us, over five thousand years old," Miranda said and Ianto's eyes went wide. He thought Miranda was ancient at nearly four thousand but this man had over a millennia on her.

"His name is a sort of legend among us. No one really thinks he exists. But…" Miranda rolled her eyes and waved in Methos's direction, "… there you have him. Such as he is…"

"You wound me so, my darling," Methos said, clapping his hand to his chest.

"Really, Methos, the histrionics…" Miranda rolled her eyes at him and then turned to Duncan. "'I am fairly out and you are fairly in. See which of us will be the happiest.'"

"That was worthy of Fish, Mandy." Ianto rolled his eyes at Miranda.

"Can you all focus please?" Dawson said, raising his voice. "Christ, youngest guy in the room with the exception of the newbie over there and I feel like I'm the one babysitting."

"Aside from putting a bullet in his brain, there is nothing I can do about Kiernan or what he chooses to research," Miranda said. "The most he could uncover is that I am not Chen Mao-Lin and that is of little consequence."

"Killing him would be ill advised," Methos said. "It would draw attention to his research."

"Yes, thank you, Methos, I see you still enjoy pointing out the obvious," Miranda said sarcastically.

"We think he's already figured that out and more. He may have realised you're the oldest woman," Duncan said.

Ianto's eyes went wide as he looked from Duncan to Miranda.

"I'm not the oldest woman, Mac," Miranda pointed out, holding up her hand to stave off Ianto's mind.

"A mere technicality. To him and in the eyes of the Watchers, you would be," Methos said. "If he's realised your chronicle is a fallacy, he'll present his case up the Watcher ladder. If he convinces the right people, you won't be the two thousand year old courtesan anymore. You'll be Chen Mao-Lin, the four thousand year old woman, the Lady Methuselah."

"And every immortal with a Watcher whispering in their ear will descend on Cardiff," Miranda said and then rolled her eyes at Methos's absurd title. "The Lady Methuselah? Honestly, Methos…"

"It's a Watcher term, doc," Dawson said. "The oldest immortals - the Lord and Lady Methuselah."

"How unoriginal," she said, rolling her eyes at the obvious biblical reference.

"Unoriginal?" Ianto said chuckling. "He uses the alias Adam. You use Eve. You two are a cliche of biblical proportions."

Miranda glared at him as everyone in the room rolled their eyes and said, "Kiernan won't confide his suspicions to me."

"Don't worry, I'll handle Kiernan. He's a good kid. We just wanted to let you know what was going on," Dawson said.

Miranda nodded still looking at Dawson with suspicion. The fact that Duncan trusted him was nothing. Miranda had always thought Duncan MacLeod was a trusting fool. But for Methos to trust this man? That was no small matter. Had his love for Duncan completely addled his wits? Miranda wondered at it for a moment. She wasn't so quick to trust someone branded with a Watcher tattoo. She checked her watch. She and Ianto were overdue at the Hub.

"We have to go. Thank you, gentlemen," Miranda said.

Miranda nodded by way of goodbye and left the room with Ianto behind her. The two of them drove back to the Hub in silence. Ianto parked his car in the Hub garage and turned off the engine.

He turned to Miranda, putting his arm on hers before she could get out of the car and asked, "Would you really kill Kiernan?"

"If it becomes necessary," she said, simply.

"You'd murder an innocent man? He's your friend, Mandy!" he said.

"Innocent? Painting a fucking target around my neck makes him far from innocent, Ifan!" she snapped. Miranda was annoyed. Ianto's view of the world needed to change and fast. She wondered if he'd gleaned anything from watching her for the past five years. "And as for being my friend? Being friendly with my Watcher and my Watcher being my friend are two very different things - two things that Duncan MacLeod has clearly confused."

"He's mortal, Mandy!" he shouted.

And that was when Miranda's patience with her student snapped. She glared at Ianto angrily and shouted, "That means nothing! Despite their code of non-interference, the Watchers are part of the Game. Some of them kill us and some of them blatantly interfere for whatever reason, well intended or not. You must change your view of mortals, Ifan. The Watchers are not the only ones who place themselves in the crossfire of the Game. I have seen our kind use mortals to their advantage."

"What? Why?" he asked, confused.

"Mortals are the most common means for one of us to case a potential opponent without arousing suspicion," she said. She made it sound matter-of-fact and obvious but Ianto had never considered the possibility.

"Why would a mortal do that?"

"Any number of reasons, Ifan. Sometimes it's as simple as money, they're paid to. Sometimes it's far more nefarious, like telling them that we can make them immortal but the reasons don't matter. You must always be on your guard. Sensing the others doesn't ensure a level playing field. There are many who do not fight in the Game with honour."

Ianto had never considered the possibility a mortal could be a threat to him. The changes to his life and how he perceived the world around him continued to surprise him. Every day, it seems, he learned of some new dimension to the Game. Before, Ianto knew where he stood. A Weevil or a bullet from a Blowfish was a threat. A drunk driver or a mugger was a threat. Now, the reasons Miranda was always so cautious were becoming clearer to him. She saw threats everywhere because there were threats everywhere.

"Not much incentive to obey the rules if people break them," he said a little sarcastically.

"We police our own. Those who do not obey the basic rules of the Game are quickly killed. Those who are blatantly fighting unfairly also do not survive long. News of a cheat travels fast. An immortal who fights unfairly is a threat to all of us."

"I can't imagine using someone like that," Ianto said.

"You must find your own code of honour within the Game, Ifan, what is and what is not acceptable to you. I caution you to not compromise your own survival or break the rules of engagement."

"And if I break the rules?" Ianto asked, tentatively, almost afraid of the answer.

Miranda was silent for a moment. When she spoke, her voice held a chill that raised gooseflesh on Ianto's arms.

"Do not mistake me, Ifan. I love you. You are my friend and my student. But if you draw unneeded attention to yourself or to me as your teacher by compromising the Game or ignoring the rules of engagement that have been passed down from student to teacher for untold millennia? I will kill you myself."


	14. Chapter 14

Jack was sitting behind his desk strumming his fingers across the wood as he stared at his second in command. The two were discussing strategy. Fish had worked nearly nonstop, chasing the electronic trails that Hastings and Brogen had left since the Battle of Canary Wharf. It had taken the Torchwood technician almost three days, but he'd pieced together a trail for the two men that had crossed the Atlantic.

Fish discovered that Hastings had accepted the government's money and relocated to America, specifically Boston. The British government had smoothed over his entry into the United States and Hastings held dual citizenship. His plans for a new life had faltered and Hastings had made a few bad investments with the government payoff. With the money gone, Hastings had started working various low paying jobs in banks across Boston to make ends meet.

Brogen had refused the government payoff and, instead, had returned to university. The man studied journalism and creative writing and, after spending some time abroad in America, returned to the UK. He worked for the online division of Daily Mail. Brogen had even managed to get a few of his short stories published in various quarterly magazines. Abruptly, six months ago, after a holiday to New York City, Brogen had quit his job at Daily Mail. As far as Fish could tell, Brogen had no income but he was still living in his modest flat in London and managing to pay his bills.

When Fish had dug into Hector Woodon Industries, he had uncovered more. The company's owner was a man by the name of Thorn Gabsinges. The unusual name was all the clue that Ianto had needed. He'd seen what the others had missed. Hector Wooden was an anagram for Torchwood One and Thorn Gabsinges was an anagram of both Hastings and Brogen's last names.

Miranda had made some discrete inquiries to Ethan Donovan, the head of Torchwood's American counterpart, MiB. Jack had always felt the American operation utterly incompetent and disorganised. While on holiday in Canada visiting Henry, Fish had seen proof positive. Donovan had swallowed his pride and trained with Torchwood for a month and MiB was steadily improving.

Donovan had been more than happy to look into Hastings for Miranda. A few inquiries were all it had taken to discover that Hastings had covertly changed his name by purchasing illegal documents. The man had returned to the UK under the new name with the American passport. Both men now lived in London, on opposite sides of the city. If Torchwood was going to investigate Brogen and Hastings, Torchwood would have to go to London.

"Will, we can't all up and leave," Jack said. "The rift isn't going to stop and I am not calling in UNIT to handle things while we clean up an old Torchwood mess."

"Your pride aside, Jack, we can't stay in Cardiff with our dicks in our hands. We need to work this from London, plain and simple," Miranda said.

"Fine. You and Ianto can stay here. Gwen, Fish and I can go to London," Jack said.

"And how do you plan to gain their trust? Flash your thousand watt smile and flap your coat about?" she said. Jack's reputation had been well known with the employees of One.

"Fish can head in under cover," Jack said, "or Gwen."

Miranda shook her head and outlined Ianto's plan to him. She wasn't surprised when Jack protested.

"Are you out of your mind, Will? Ianto can't go to London! Major cities are off-limits, you said so yourself!" Jack shouted.

"Don't let your personal feelings cloud things, Jack. Ianto is right. Everything that made him the perfect suspect will make the perfect cover story. His plan is simplistic and brilliant," Miranda insisted. "We have him attempt to sell Brogen and Hastings a handful of pieces to whet their appetite. We offer them more - access to outside storage units from One or Three. Finally, once Ianto fully infiltrates their organisation and we're assured that Hastings and Brogen are not in collusion with anyone else, we hand them over to UNIT."

"Something could go wrong," Jack said. "You do know that you're talking about London, at Christmas?"

"Yes, Jack, I realise that it's almost Christmas. We'll have to take a chance. And look at it this way, if there's some sort of alien cock up we'll already be there," Miranda said. "Don't worry. I will protect him."

"You can't do that on your own," Jack protested.

"I have people I trust who owe me a favor or two who can help me to protect Ianto," Miranda said. She'd already thought of this - Methos and Duncan would be ideal. The two men were already in Europe.

Jack could tell his argument was losing ground. "So, what? After working here for seven years, Ianto's suddenly decided to make a profit?"

"Your current domestic issues provide the perfect cover there, Jack," she said matter-of-factly. "Tired of your philandering and your inability to keep it in your trousers, Ianto has left. He and his new 'girlfriend' have moved to London together to get away from Cardiff, Torchwood and you."

Hurt flashed across Jack's face but Miranda could tell she had won. She'd been overly blunt and the cover story hit a few nerves but, well, she was never known for her tact. Jack nodded and then turned his attention to some paperwork on his desk. "Call everyone into the boardroom and let them know the plan. I'll call in Mickey and Martha to help out here. Get out."

Miranda knew enough to leave without another word. Once she'd gotten the others into the boardroom and Ianto had distributed coffee, she began to outline the first phase of the plan and everyone set to work. Since Miranda and Ianto would be under deep cover, the entire plan needed to be meticulously outlined beforehand.

It took nearly two weeks to set up. Ianto had selected several pieces of technology from the archives, trying to limit his selections to items that were along the ecofriendly lines that Brogen and Hastings seemed to be heading. He did include a few weapons in his choices just in case.

Miranda's cover story needed to be flawless. Fish had manufactured everything, her work history and her financials. It was decided that, rather than taking on a different profession, that she should continue her work as a doctor. Miranda had taken the next steps, spending nearly all of her time with her nose buried in medical books, brushing up on her medical training. She regularly attended medical conferences to keep her licence and knowledge current but she hadn't practiced medicine regularly in over a decade. Her surgical skills were rusty at best so she'd decided to pursue over avenues. Fish falsified a huge amount of information to make it look as if Miranda was an A&E physician in Cardiff. She had spent a few days in London, interviewing and had been granted a job as a staff doctor in the A&E at St. Thomas' Hospital. She'd also used the time to look for a small flat for her and Ianto.

It had taken little persuasion to convince Methos and Duncan to help protect them while they were in London. The last time Methos and Miranda had been together was in New York, over twenty years ago. The two had lived as husband and wife, sharing an apartment on the upper east side while Miranda was doing a surgical residency. She'd come home late one night to find Methos and Duncan in bed together. She'd mostly gotten over her anger with regards to their indiscretion and both men felt badly enough about it that they readily agreed to help. They didn't know the reasons behind the London trip but they were perceptive enough to realise that the nature of Miranda's job was clandestine. Miranda was glad they'd accepted. Not only would they watch her and Ianto's backs, they could also provide quasi back up for the mission itself since the Torchwood team would be hours away in Cardiff.

Once Fish had finished with Miranda's cover story, he began to manufacture the necessary fiction for Ianto's. He created a number of hotel receipts to paint the picture that Jack had been sleeping around. To his own distaste but at Gwen's suggestion, he had even included her in the web of lies, creating a picture that her and Jack had been sleeping together on and off for months. In a true display of selflessness, Rhys and Gwen had agreed to separate for a few weeks during Ianto and Miranda's transition to London. Gwen moved out of their flat and into a hotel. Miranda and Ianto both moved out of the Hub and into Ianto's unused flat together. Two days later, Mickey and Martha, thoroughly briefed on the situation, arrived to help Jack, Fish and Gwen with the rift during Ianto and Miranda's absence.

Everything was in place. Ianto and Miranda's things had been delivered to their new flat in London and they were due to leave in the morning. It was well into the evening and Ianto was standing at his workstation, reviewing their cover story.

"What are you still doing here, Ianto? It's late," Jack asked.

It had broken Jack's heart watching Ianto leave the Hub to return to his flat for the past few nights. Last night, Jack had to confess to twinges of jealousy when he had watched Ianto and Miranda leaving together, chuckling over some shared joke. It would have been one thing if it was just for the mission. But with things the way they were between them…

"Just going through this one more time. I need to have it down," he replied, not turning around.

"With your memory? You had it down the first time you read it," Jack said, trying to lighten the mood and diffuse the tension

Ianto didn't turn to look at Jack. He just kept his eyes fixed on the screen wishing Jack would leave him be. He had to focus and he couldn't do that with Jack in the room, his scent wafting towards him. _Bloody fifty first century pheromones…_

"Can we talk, Ianto?" Jack asked, thrusting his hands into his trouser pockets.

"After all this is done, Jack, we can talk all you want," Ianto said impatiently.

"You're going out there, Yan, and I don't want to leave things like this."

Ianto sighed. "Like what?"

"Like this," Jack said as he waved back and forth between them.

"Jack…" Ianto groaned as he turned around to face his lover.

"I miss you, Ianto. Come home, please."

"Mandy and I need to keep up the pretense," Ianto said, folding his arms across his chest.

"You know what I mean, Ianto," Jack said, snapping a little.

"I can't Jack. I don't want things to change with us and they will have to eventually."

"Change how? You say you don't want things to change but you downstairs in the staterooms or back at your flat is a pretty big change."

Ianto hung his head a little, resting his hand against his forehead. He hated repeating himself. "I don't want to hold you back. I know you can't limit yourself to just one person. It's not your nature. You don't do monogamy. You don't see the point."

"What do you mean I don't see the point? What about the past six years makes you think that? Have I been in the same relationship as you?" he said, his voice raising a little. Then a light bulb went off over his head. "Is this about Will and Fish?"

Ianto didn't want to admit it but it partly was. He had agreed to extending an invitation to Miranda readily. In fact, it had been his idea. Adding a female to their mix had always been in the back of Ianto's mind and Miranda was someone who was unattached, that they were both attracted to and that they both cared about. The woman was lonely and Ianto had been more than happy to try to alleviate that. But Fish had been Jack's idea. Ianto had agreed to it out of half hearted sexual curiosity and a whole hearted desire to please Jack, nothing more. He'd been relieved when Fish had refused.

"That was different. It was something we both agreed on."

Jack heard the hesitancy. "We agreed, yes, but was it something you wanted?"

Ianto decided to come clean. "Not so much Fish."

"What!? I don't want to force you into anything you don't want, Ianto! If you didn't want Fish then why did you agree to invite him to bed?" Jack couldn't believe he was only hearing about this now. It should have come up when the two of them had discussed extending Fish the invitation. It would have put a stop to the whole thing.

"Because you wanted him, Jack, and I'll admit I was a little curious. You're the only bloke I've ever been with," Ianto said with a shrug.

"We didn't need to invite him to bed with us. I can do without everyone else, Ianto. I can't do without you," Jack said. He mimicked Ianto's defensive stance, crossing his arms over his chest, jutting out his chin for good measure.

"For now," Ianto said, the snappish remark out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"Is that what all this is about? You think I'm going to get bored with you and leave?!" Jack shouted. He couldn't believe his ears.

Ianto summoned patience and sighed. He tried to sound angry but it didn't come out that way. Instead, he voice held despair. "Right now? No. But in a hundred years? Two hundred? A thousand?"

"I meant what I said to you when you… that night," Jack choked and then his voice gained strength, rising loudly. "I could never forget you, Ianto. You're the only person I want in my life and in my bed! What we have is important to me! You're important to me! I don't know what'll happen with us in a hundred or two hundred years but I'm willing to at least try. You just walked out!"

"You let me!" Ianto shouted, indignantly.

"Oh that's mature!" Jack snapped.

"Pot meet kettle," Ianto said with an eye roll and then returned to the subject. "It's true, Jack! If what we have is so special and so important, why did you let me go so easily?"

Jack's jaw dropped. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. How was this easy?! He'd barely slept since Ianto had moved out. He was using the sofa in his office, unable to stand their bed without him. He couldn't even stand to be in the bunker, going down the ladder only for his clothes. He'd been showering in the locker room. "You think that was easy?! You said you didn't want to hold me back. I don't want to hold you back either!"

"How are you holding me back?" Ianto asked incredulously.

"You have so much time now, Yan. You said it yourself, 'No death by Torchwood for me.'"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Ianto asked, his face furrowed with confusion.

"You have time that you didn't have before. You can do whatever you want, go where ever you want. You've got all the time in the world! Look at Will. I don't think there's a job she hasn't had or a place she's never seen. Do you know why she became a doctor? Gabe's death aside, she told me it was because it was something she hadn't tried yet. That's your life now."

"You think I want to become a doctor?" Ianto asked, confused.

Jack let out a frustrated sigh and said, "No, Ianto, but you could if you wanted to. You have opportunities in front of you now. You don't have to be stuck here at Torchwood with me."

Ianto's eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. "Stuck with you?!" he cried. "You think I feel like I'm stuck with you?! Are you completely daft? Maybe all that time travel has addled that fifty first century brain of yours but you are not an easy man to live with, Jack Harkness! I've stayed here with you because it's what I want! I love you!"

Jack glared angrily at Ianto. "Are you telling me that you moved out because you thought I want to sleep around?"

"Are you telling me you let me move out because you thought I wanted to go galavanting across the world?"

The two men stared at each other incredulously and then they started to laugh.

"Oh, God, Mandy was right! We're both completely thick," Ianto said.

"She'll never let us live this down," Jack groaned.

"Christ, we're all immortal. We'll be hearing about this for centuries," Ianto said, groaning as well.

When the laughter died down, an awkward silence fell.

"Ianto, I-" Jack began but Ianto crossed over to him and put his fingers on his lips.

"Don't say anything, Jack. We're both blokes and we're both rubbish at all this talking. So just shut up and kiss me," Ianto said.

Jack's eyes sparkled and Ianto felt tears prickling his eyes as he saw Jack smile. It was his smile, the smile Jack reserved only for him. It was a smile Ianto thought he wouldn't see again for a long time, or worse, see it on Jack's face directed at someone else. Jack leaned and Ianto met him in the middle, the kiss filled with relief and love.

"Take me to bed, Ianto," Jack said, letting his lips trail along Ianto's jaw towards his ears and the spot just below them that Jack knew drove Ianto wild.

Ianto didn't need to be told twice. He seized Jack's hand and dragged the other man towards the bunker.


	15. Chapter 15

When Jack climbed down the ladder, Ianto pressed himself into him. Jack could feel Ianto's hard cock sliding against his arse. He couldn't help but let out a low moan. Ianto was sliding his hands up and down Jack's sides. He moved to unclip his braces, tossing them across the dresser. Jack tried to turn around but Ianto wouldn't let him, pressing his body firmly into the ladder with his own.

"Don't move…" Ianto said, breathless as he untucked Jack's shirt.

"Oh c'mon, Yan, I want to touch you," Jack whinged.

Ianto let out a low chuckle as he wrapped his arms around Jack, unbuttoning his shirt from behind him.

"Patience," he whispered, nibbling on Jack's ear and sliding the blue shirt off Jack's shoulders and tossed it towards the hamper. Ianto unbuckled Jack's belt, sliding it from the loops of his trousers with a hard jerk.

"You're killing me here, Ianto," Jack said.

"Good thing you're immortal then isn't it?" Ianto chuckled, his breath warm on Jack's neck. He sucked hard on the skin, leaving behind a large bruise and Jack gripped the ladder for support.

"Don't move," Ianto ordered. He crouched down, unlaced Jack's boots and took them off his feet with two clunks.

Jack was desperate and so hard it nearly hurt but he stayed still, knowing Ianto could exact some serious punishment if he didn't obey. When Ianto stood up, he turned Jack around to face him.

"Good boy," he said and undid Jack's trousers, letting them fall to the floor in a crumpled heap along with his pants. "Shirt."

This was a favourite game of theirs, stripping one of them bare and then telling the other which piece of clothing they were to remove. Ianto often had Jack removing his clothing in a strange order. Jack could already tell this was going in his favourite order, one that would leave Ianto in nothing but his tie. Jack didn't need to be told twice, he untucked Ianto's shirt and unbuttoned it, carefully easing the collar from underneath the tie.

"Trousers," Ianto said.

Jack didn't bother removing Ianto's belt, he was too impatient. He unbuckled it and undid Ianto's trousers, sliding them down around his ankles. He decided to take a risk, unlacing Ianto's shoes and tugging them off along with the Welshman's socks. When he stood up, Ianto had a slightly evil grin on his face. _Oh no…_ Jack thought.

"Did I say shoes and socks?" Ianto asked. He grabbed Jack by the arms and started walking the other man back towards their bed. When Jack's legs hit the edge, he sat down and Ianto eased him onto his back. "You know what happens when you break the rules, Harkness."

"Win, win either way, Jones," Jack said with a laugh.

Ianto laughed back, losing patience with their game and he tore off his tie, t-shirt and pants, tossing them at the hamper. The pants landed on the floor.

"You're not going to pick those up?" Jack teased.

"Sod that," Ianto said, "more important things to do… like you."

Ianto pressed himself into Jack, kissing the other man deeply. It had been weeks since the two of them had been together, something that was, at the very least, a daily occurrence. Jack's arms flew around Ianto, pressing the other man into him harder.

"I fucking love the way you taste," Ianto said as Jack sucked on his neck.

Jack stopped suddenly, resting his head back against the bed and gazing up into Ianto's eyes. He brought his hand up to cup Ianto's face, studying him for a minute. Ianto could see tears shining in Jack's eyes. When he spoke, Jack's voice was unsteady and raspy, "I missed you so much, Ianto… I love you."

Ianto had started the game to keep this lighthearted and fun, the way their love making had often been but he could feel the way Jack was clinging to him and the heaviness in his own heart. It wasn't what either of them needed or wanted. He downshifted his movements, slowing them. He dipped his head into the crook of Jack's neck, sucking on the skin gently and whispering in Jack's ear.

"I love you, Jack."

Jack was running his hands over every inch of Ianto's skin he could reach, he tugged Ianto's face towards him, kissing him deeply. Ianto rolled off of Jack to collect the small bottle of alien oil from the bedside table. Jack moved himself further onto the bed, bending his legs at the knees. Ianto settled between them, drizzling the oil onto his fingers. He kissed Jack tenderly as he teased his fingers around the other man's entrance, and Jack moaned. Ianto took great care and pleasure in preparing Jack thoroughly. He always enjoyed turning the act into something more than a necessity, incorporating it into their foreplay. He'd learned that from Jack. By the time Ianto had managed to work three fingers into Jack's body, Jack was a panting mess. Ianto let his fingers slide one more time over Jack's prostate and the other man let out a low moan.

Ianto drizzled the alien oil onto his painfully hard erection, feeling its effects immediately. Jack and Ianto had tried other lubricants that tingled and Ianto found the tingle unpleasant, like the pins and needles from your leg falling asleep. But the alien oil tingled in a different way, pleasant and tantalizing. It also warmed instantly, seeming to know how much warmth Ianto wanted. The oil also somehow managed to heighten sensation but without bringing him closer to climax.

Jack grew impatient. He grabbed Ianto's wrists and tugged the other man towards him. Ianto stared into Jack's lust blown eyes as he lowered himself onto the other man, the rings of bright blue around a pool of black. Jack's arms slid around Ianto's back and Ianto ran his lips over Jack's shoulders and neck as he entered him slowly. He felt Jack begin to tremble and he stopped, opened his eyes and made sure he wasn't hurting his lover.

"Jack?" he asked, softly.

"I'm fine," Jack said.

Ianto kissed him, his tongue sliding along Jack's until he was fully sheathed in Jack's body. He laid there, enjoying the feel of Jack wrapped around him. Jack's arms came up around his neck and Ianto understood. He slid his arms between Jack and the bed while he eased his knees further apart. In one sweeping movement, he lifted Jack up so he was sitting in his lap. Jack leaned forward, kissing Ianto deeply, his arms pulling the other man into him closer, their chests touching and Jack's hard cock trapped between them.

Jack set a slow and tender rhythm as he moved on top of his lover. There were varying degrees to their sex from pornographic like fucking to slow and tender love making and this was definitely far into the latter. They had made love before, but this was different. Ianto felt more connected to Jack than ever, their faces buried in each other's necks and their arms wrapped around each other tightly. Both men were quite vocal in bed, but now the two of them were nearly silent, letting the act speak for itself. The only sound was their breathing and the occasional throaty moan. The pace neither increased nor decreased, it remained constant and unchanging, languid and tender. Ianto felt time standing still as he moved within Jack, lost in ecstasy and the feel of the other man. There was nothing else but them and their love. Emotion swelled up in his chest and he felt tears form in his eyes, a few spilling out onto Jack's shoulder.

Ianto nuzzled Jack's cheek with his nose and the other man lifted his head. More tears spilled onto Ianto's cheeks as he saw the ones in Jack's own eyes and on his face. It wasn't the first time tears had been shed between them during their love making. But this was the first time they weren't tainted by sorrow. This time, they were an overflow of pure love and joy. They didn't reach up, they didn't wipe them away as they had before. The two men kissed tenderly and slowly. When they broke apart, their cheeks rested against the other's, the tears mingling on their skin.

Jack's body began to show signs of his approaching climax, signs that Ianto knew well. His breathing had increased and there was a slight tremble to his shoulders. Ianto's body was also approaching the edge. Jack could feel the tell-tale quiver of Ianto's bottom lip on his cheek and heard the way Ianto had started to suck air through nearly closed lips.

The two men were unable to maintain the slow rhythm and their speed increased as they hurtled towards orgasm together. The silence was breaking as well, both men had begun moaning softly and whispering each other's names on the throaty gasps. Simultaneously, their arms tightened around each other and they both let out wordless shouts, not throwing their heads back but burying them deeper into each other's necks. Jack's cock, trapped between their bodies, fountained come up onto their chests and bellies, smearing between them as Ianto emptied himself into Jack. They moved as one, achingly slow, drawing out their mutual climax until, finally, they stilled.

They stayed like that for a while, their arms wrapped around each other, their bodies trembling not only from the force of their shared orgasm but their emotions. Ianto's spent cock had softened and slipped from Jack, a rush of come following it, dripping down onto the sheets below.

Ianto moved first, the come on his body becoming unbearably sticky. On unsteady feet, he padded into the small en suite and wiped himself clean. He ran one of the flannels under warm water and returned to the bed, handing it to Jack. He stood there, staring at his bedside table for a minute.

He crouched down, and opened the bottom drawer. The cufflink box was still there, exactly as he'd left it. The envelope underneath that contained Jack's new birth certificate and other documents was undisturbed. Even though it felt like a cliche, Ianto was about to reach for the items when Jack's voice brought him back to reality.

"Ianto?" Jack asked. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing, Jack," Ianto said, shutting the drawer.


	16. Chapter 16

Kiernan was walking towards the coffee shop just off the Plass to warm up. Miranda had sent him a quick text last week telling him that she and Ianto would be traveling to London for an undetermined amount of time for a case and she had kept him apprised of their time table. Kiernan was always grateful when Miranda kept him in the loop. It made her one of the easiest field assignments. There were some immortals who spent all their time trying to dodge their Watchers or worse, kill them.

For small trips, Kiernan followed Miranda. She only travelled for Torchwood and it was usually with Ianto so even though the Welshman was now immortal, there was little changing. This situation was different. Miranda had told him that their trip to London would be extensive, possibly months long. It was a large city and Kiernan couldn't follow both Ianto and Miranda on his own. In Cardiff, Kiernan felt relatively safe not following them for long stretches since the underground Torchwood base was nearly impenetrable. But in London the two immortals would be out in the open twenty four hours a day, working in separate places. It was too much for him.

He had filed a change of Watcher authorisation for Ianto Jones, deciding to stay with Miranda. Normally, he'd have to provide a reason that he no longer wished to be Ianto Jones's Watcher but in this case it was all a formality. The request had been approved before he'd even filed it and Ianto's new Watcher, Shawn Graham, had arrived from London so that Kiernan could acclimate him to Ianto's habits. Kiernan had also briefed Shawn about Torchwood. What Kiernan had told Miranda was mostly true, the Watchers didn't make Torchwood common knowledge among their organisation but the Wachers had existed for centuries. There wasn't a secret society or organisation they didn't know about, Torchwood included. Shawn had taken the information in stride, as Kiernan had. Making the leap from immortals to aliens wasn't difficult.

Tonight, Kiernan was alone watching Ianto and Miranda. Shawn had returned to London yesterday to get ready for Kiernan's arrival. Shawn's flatmate had moved in with his girlfriend and so he had offered Kiernan a place at his flat. Kiernan's request for temporary Watcher housing was still being processed so he'd accepted the generous offer. It had been nice having the bit of company up on the Plass and Kiernan wondered if Shawn would be able to remain Ianto's Watcher after this little excursion to London. It was more likely that Kiernan would return to serving as Watcher for both immortals.

He collected his coffee from the counter and sat down at one of the tables, taking off his hat and gloves. He could afford a few minutes inside to warm up. He knew Ianto was working late and his fellow Welshman also was an easy assignment, often waving to Kiernan as he left from the Tourist Office. If Ianto went to leave and didn't see Kiernan on his bench, he would wait. He could have stayed at Ianto's flat, watching Miranda, but as a new immortal, Ianto took priority. He was a more high risk target.

"Kiernan Davies?" came an American voice from behind him.

Kiernan looked up to see a rugged looking man using a crutch behind him. The man lifted his sleeve and Kiernan saw the tattoo on his wrist.

"I've had my evaluation this year," Kiernan said. "What's going on?"

"I'm not here to evaluate you, kid," the American said, extending his hand. "Joe Dawson."

"You watch the Highlander," Kiernan said, taking the hand and shaking it firmly. He gesturing at the chair opposite him.

"Yup," Dawson said, sitting down with his own coffee. Dawson arranged his crutch against the window and turned to Kiernan.

"What do you want, Mr. Dawson?" Kiernan asked, suspicious.

"I'm going to level with you, kid. You need to back off Chen Mao-Lin," Dawson said simply.

"I don't know what your talking about," Kiernan said carefully as he put his gloves back on. Looks like he was going to have to head back out onto the Plass sooner than he thought.

"Immortals are complicated. You don't want to go turning over rocks and uncovering things you can't put back," Dawson said.

"I'm doing my job, Mr. Dawson," Kiernan said. He found this whole conversation offensive. Kiernan believed in the Watcher cause and he believed in history. He understood why the Game was being fought in the background and the shadows. It was a necessity. What the Watchers were doing was also a necessity. The history of the Game was entangled with the history of mankind. Kiernan lived and breathed history. The Game was an important story that needed to be told. Leaving a few details out of Chen's chronicle was one thing. If it gained her trust, it was worth it. The idea that Chen Mao-Lin's entire chronicle was a fallacy was a wrong that Kiernan couldn't see continue. The idea that another Watcher was telling him sweep that fallacy under the table disgusted him.

"You're putting her in danger," Dawson said.

"You think I'm interfering? I'm trying to clean up a mess," Kiernan said yanked his hat over his head. He stood up. "Chen Mao-Lin's chronicle is fiction. It's been fiction for centuries."

"Hey, kid, wait," Dawson said. He grabbed at Kiernan's coat as he tried to walk away but Kiernan shrugged him off. He stood up and started fumbling with his crutch. "Goddammit…"

Dawson hobbled out of the coffee shop and towards the Plass, shivering from the cold. _Fucking Wales…_ When he got to the Plass, Kiernan was sitting on his usual bench so he could watch the Tourist Office door.

"Hey, kid, listen," Dawson said walking over to Kiernan. "I don't think you're interfering. Look, if it was me? I would've tried to fix it too."

"Then what the fuck do you want, Dawson?" Kiernan snapped.

Dawson sighed. "Describe her to me in three words."

"Beautiful. Stubborn. Lethal," Kiernan said without hesitation.

"Right. Lethal. You think a woman like her'll sit back while you paint a target on her neck? You brand her 'The Lady Methuselah' and that's what you're doing," Dawson warned.

"Mao-Lin's can take care of herself," Kiernan said with an eye roll. "And I shouldn't have to tell you, it's not about keeping her safe. It's about the integrity of the chronicles."

"Maybe, but women don't live that long in the Game without having a few tricks up their sleeves and I know things about her that you don't."

"Like what?" Kiernan said defiantly.

Dawson wasn't going to fall for the goading. "Enough to know that she'd kill you without blinking."

"She wouldn't do that," Kiernan said but he didn't feel as confident as he sounded. She would at least talk to Kiernan first. Wouldn't she?

"You think so, huh? You seem a decent kid, Kiernan. Don't underestimate them. Priority one for these people is their own fucking head. You keep digging and you won't find treasure, you'll end up standing in your own grave. MacLeod talked to her already. I was there," Dawson said. He stabbed his finger in Kiernan's direction for emphasis. "She used the word bullet and she used the word brain."

"Thanks for the warning, I'll be careful," he said, turning his attention to the Tourist Office door. He tried to act nonchalant but Kiernan believed Dawson. He still needed to be wary. Dawson was infamous among the Watchers. The Tribunal had tried to downplay Dawson for years but if there's one thing Watchers were good at, it's watching and listening. When mentors warn their trainees about becoming too involved and getting too close, they used Dawson as the prime example. Before he'd left the research department, Kiernan had found out the repair department was scrutinising MacLeod's chronicle, specifically the portions written by Dawson. There were whispers of bias and inaccuracies.

Dawson made an annoyed noise. He waved his hand dismissively at Kiernan and then walked away, shaking his head. Kiernan didn't care. Unknowingly, Dawson had given Kiernan his next lead. When he returned to the Watcher library, Kiernan would be looking into Duncan MacLeod.


	17. Chapter 17

Ianto and Miranda had decided that the best course of action was to let Hastings and Brogen come to them. After they'd arrived in London, the two of them had settled in, bracing themselves for the Christmas holidays. The two Torchwood agents were shocked that Christmas had come and gone without so much as an alien toaster. London at Christmas and no aliens? Ianto felt as if all his Christmases had come at once.

The two of them spent it quietly, missing the team. Usually, Christmas was quite a big affair at the Hub, complete with a feast, crackers and tree. Fish usually put on a big show of chemical bangs and explosions and light flashes. It seems when London got aliens, Cardiff got a break.

After Boxing Day, Miranda began work at the hospital and Ianto found work in a small coffee shop. Miranda worked twelve hour days but had four days off in a row. Ianto had to be at work at the crack of dawn but it meant he left early. The two settled into a quiet domestic life and Ianto had to admit that it was kind of nice.

Since Ianto had more time at the flat than Miranda on the days she worked, he'd decided it was finally time he learned how to cook food that didn't involve picking up a phone. He always had an experimental meal waiting for Miranda when she got off work. Some were successes and others disastrous failures that the two laughed over. On her days off, the two cooked dinner together, Miranda trying to teach Ianto some cooking skills. Aside from the fact Ianto missed Jack terribly and that he and Miranda were constantly on the lookout for some surveillance, it was almost like a holiday from Torchwood. Ianto felt a little guilty for enjoying the slice of normality but the situation wasn't without it's downsides.

Ianto often saw Duncan and Methos following him. The two immortal men took their protection detail very seriously. They were always careful, never venturing close enough for Ianto to feel them. Miranda had suspended Ianto's sword training for the duration of this mission and the two of them were walking about London, one of the biggest and most populated cities in the world, unarmed. They had an emergency field box in the entryway cupboard of the flat but they were not concealing weapons of any kind on themselves, including their swords. Ianto, who hadn't yet gotten used to carrying the heavy blade, didn't miss its presence but Miranda was nervous and jumpy when they weren't in the flat. The immortal woman normally walked around armed to the teeth. Ianto never had any idea why. Even unarmed, Miranda was lethal.

To make matters worse, Jack and Ianto had reconciled - several times - before Ianto and Miranda had left for London and Ianto found himself missing Jack terribly. The two lovers couldn't even speak over the phone without the risk of compromising the mission and the two were communicating with covert messages through Fish which limited what they could say to each other. While that didn't seem to stop Jack much, Ianto tried to spare his friend the embarrassment. Fish was such a blusher.

Jack wasn't the only thing tugging at Ianto's heart. To maintain the pretense they were involved, Miranda and Ianto were sleeping in the same bed. More than once, Ianto would roll over in the dark, see the feminine shape of Miranda's body beneath the blankets and would think of Lisa. He couldn't help but feel as if he was getting a tiny glimpse into what his life could have been like had it not been for Daleks or Cybermen. Not that Ianto would have things any differently even though Lisa was gone and there had been so much tragedy.

The two of them had been playing house for just over three weeks when Ianto came home from work and took out his mobile to charge it. With a sleight of hand, he activated the surveillance scanning program designed by Fish then he went about searching the fridge for something to cook for dinner. There were a number of left over vegetables from a soup he had attempted yesterday and Ianto thought tossing them with some pasta for a primavera type dish would be interesting. He'd never much cared for vegetables but was finding himself coming around to them now that he was learning how to cook them properly and not just opening tins. He had just set the water onto the stove to boil when his mobile beeped. Ianto picked up the phone, expecting to see a text from Miranda but it was the surveillance detection program. The program had discovered the presence of audio and visual surveillance inside of the flat, listening devices that were not there when he left for work this morning. He was being watched. Trying not to react outwardly and swearing inwardly, Ianto sent out two texts, the first to Miranda and the second to Fish. Both texts were previously agreed upon code messages to let them know the surveillance on the flat had started.

_Can you pick up some bread on your way home? _Ianto sent to Miranda and to Fish he sent,_ Fish, have you heard from Rhys? Is he doing all right?_

He also activated the telemetry feature on his phone, another program of Fish's design. The program would send detailed information to Fish about the surveillance in the flat although Ianto had no idea how. The plan was specific, Fish would have two days to analyse the information and then he would deliver his findings to Miranda and Ianto under the guise of a social visit. Ianto felt his pulse quicken. It had started. It was likely that within a few days Miranda and Ianto would also have people following them. Well, people who weren't Watchers.

Ianto picked up his mobile and dialed Miranda, the two having a random conversation as Ianto moved about the flat with the phone. It would give Fish data about any blind spots or gaps in the flat's surveillance. That chore done he set about what he had originally been doing, cooking Miranda dinner. He tried to ignore the presence of the cameras and act normally.

Miranda came home at her usual time, carrying a loaf of whole wheat bread in her hands. The two stepped up their efforts to act the happy couple, cuddling on the sofa when they watched the tele and falling asleep in each other's arms. There were small kisses and touches as they moved about the flat together and polite 'I love you's'. Ianto found the small bits of couple-y romance the hardest to tolerate. They made him miss Jack even more.

The two friends had thought this feigned couple-y-ness would be easy for them. They were very close friends who cared for each other a great deal weren't they? It would be simple to add the small romantic bits to their interactions, wouldn't it? It wasn't that easy because it simply wasn't the nature of their relationship. Even though these little kisses and affectionate displays were common between Miranda and Jack, they were completely foreign to Miranda and Ianto. Initially, Ianto had worried that when they returned to the Hub, that those affectionate displays would continue and would be misinterpreted by the team. Now, he was positive that these forced displays of affection would vanish completely once they returned home.

Two days after they discovered the surveillance, they enthusiastically welcomed Fish to the flat, glad to see a familiar and friendly face. They set him up in the guest room for the overnight stay. That night, after showing Fish some of London's sites, the three Torchwood agents went out to dinner at a small restaurant.

Once the waiter had taken their orders, Fish took his mobile phone out of his back pocket and set it on the table. He activated a noise killing program. The program was of alien origin but Fish had been tinkering with it for years. Miranda was the one who had given it the name and the two men had teased her relentlessly over it. Miranda Ryan - the four thousand year old immortal and Harry Potter fanatic. "I've got the Muffliato program running. I fiddled with it and it blocks a wider radius now."

Fish took a few thick envelopes out of his pocket and slid them across the table to Ianto. Miranda could see Jack's elegant script on them.

"These are from Jack," Fish said with a smile.

Ianto also took out a few folded envelopes from his back pocket and handed them to Fish.

"Awww," Miranda teased. "Letters, how quaint of you."

Ianto blushed furiously. The two men had been communicating through code via the e-mails that Ianto sent regularly to Fish. He was relieved to have some correspondence from Jack that didn't have to go through a third party. He would read the letters later in private.

"Right, down to business. Report, Fish," Miranda said with a smile.

"UNIT's found that Hector Woodon Industries is stepping up their game. They've approached the American military with several weapons and explosives. MiB has already put a stop to it and we received a message from the Secretary of Defense, 'Clean house'," Fish said.

Miranda and Ianto both rolled their eyes. It was typical. Even though Torchwood's relationship with MiB had improved drastically since Ethan Donovan had trained with them, their relationship with the American government was still strained.

"So not just interested in environmental issues…" Ianto said shaking his head.

"Not anymore, it seems," Fish said.

"We'll deal with it. What did you find with the surveillance?" Miranda asked.

"There is video and audio surveillance in the flat, constantly transmitting. They're not using stuff they got off the Internet, the technology is alien," Fish said.

"So there's no way to block or interfere without them knowing we're on to them," Ianto said.

Fish shook his head, "No and I'd have to do some pretty fancy footwork to do it. It would be obvious."

Miranda said, "Are there any blind spots?"

"They're limited," Fish said. "If you're whispering in each other's ear the audio won't pick it up. The balcony with the door shut is safe for audio if you're not shouting. There's also no video in the loo."

"Gods be thankful for that," Miranda said sarcastically.

Fish and Ianto both smiled slightly.

"There is video and audio in the lounge, the kitchen," Fish said then, slightly embarrassed added, "and both bedrooms."

Miranda and Ianto both groaned. They'd expected it. The two of them were going to have to take their happy couple masquerade to the next level. They had no idea how long it would be before Hastings or Brogen made contact. If it was longer than a few days, a lack of sexual intimacy between the two of them would be looked upon with suspicion. In the end, they'd decided to push aside their personal feelings for the good of the mission. They had agreed that if there was video or audio surveillance in the bedroom that they would engage the normal bedroom activities of any couple and that meant sex.

The possibility that the surveillance would include the bedroom had been brought up by the team and discussed at length between the two friends privately before coming here. Miranda had brought up her own personal reservations. At the time, Ianto and Jack were not getting along and she had no desire to put another issue between them. Ianto was also her student which, in her eyes, made sexual contact between them highly inappropriate. Miranda never slept with her students, at least not while training them.

Ianto had his own reservations. He wasn't concerned about Jack. The two of them had extended Miranda invitations to their bed, separately and jointly, that the immortal woman had politely refused. When the two men had reconciled, Ianto had brought up the subject with Jack as the two men had laid in bed in their bunker. Jack had been adamant that he had no issues with it but Ianto already knew that would be Jack's position on the matter. Ianto was loathed to engage in such a private thing with someone watching, especially people whom he found so distasteful. Ianto was constantly on camera at the Hub but the cameras didn't extend into the private areas and the feeds were there for security purposes only. There was no one constantly watching them. He was always careful to have Jack disable any cameras when they had sex outside their bedroom or to erase the footage afterwards.

"Do we have access to the feeds?" Miranda asked.

"Yes, we've set up a rota for watching them," Fish said, blushing and looking more embarrassed than before. "Sorry."

"No apologies necessary, Fish," Miranda said.

The three continued to discuss the strategy and the surveillance and after dinner, they all returned to the flat and spent the evening sitting out on the balcony, enjoying the night air. They'd left work at the restaurant and were now catching up. Things back in Cardiff were fairly normal. Mickey and Martha were a tremendous help, as always. Gwen and Rhys had moved back into their flat together, much to everyone's relief. The former PC had been quite surly while she was separated from her husband. Fish glanced over the fact that Jack had been brooding a great deal, not wanting to alarm Ianto.

The next morning, Miranda and Ianto loaded Fish onto the train bound for Cardiff. The two of them had the day off and decided to walk along the Thames together despite the London chill with the sound program running on the mobile in Miranda's purse. Out of the corner of her eye, Miranda saw Methos and Duncan walking behind them, also arm in arm, a respectable distance away. Miranda also caught two rather burly looking men on the other side of the street that had been with them since they'd left the train station.

"You should go out on an errand later so I can take out one of the alien devices," Ianto said.

Miranda nodded in agreement and then jerked her head backwards slightly. "I may have lunch with Methos."

Her role in the undercover operation had been a complex decision. Miranda was there mostly to protect Ianto even though she wasn't armed. Identifying Ianto as her student and new to the Game would keep him safe from most situations. But how should they play her involvement in Ianto's theft of the alien equipment? After much debate among the team, it had been agreed that it would be more of an advantage if Brogen and Hastings felt Miranda ignorant of the alien devices.

"Which one did you decide on?" she asked.

"I'm not sure. Not the weapon, obviously," Ianto said. "It should be something interesting but simple."

"The medical scanner?" she proposed.

"I don't think that's a good one to start with," Ianto said. "It's not similar enough to what they've already tried to market. I was thinking the 'Brick Stick'."

Miranda cocked her head considering. The 'Brick Stick' was Ianto's name for a brick coloured mini-storage device. It was something that had fallen through the rift back in the sixties, part of the crusted wreck of another alien technology. The technology surrounding the storage device was unknown and completely unsalvageable but the storage unit had been undamaged. No one back then had envisioned the concept of the modern computer, so the item had been shelved as unknown. During her tenure at Torchwood, Toshiko Sato had identified the item as a revolutionary new kind of mini-storage device similar to the USB drives in common use today. In fact, it was the shape and size of a USB drive but held millions of times more information possible than with today's technology.

"It's a good place to start, something small and portable that is easily smuggled out of the Hub," she said. "You should probably dig out the medical scanner and the filter as well, make it look like you're debating which one to use."

"Fish said he'll let us know when he sets up that meeting with his friend," Ianto said. It was all part of the strategy. Ianto and Fish had already sent a chain of false e-mails using fake accounts to set up the idea that Fish was trying to find Ianto a better job as a PA via his old ECO UK contacts.

Miranda nodded and stopped walking, leaning on the stone railing, gazing out at Tower Bridge. Her hand unconsciously went to the top of her head, remembering the hat the wind had blown down the pavement back in 1941. This was the spot that her and Jack had met for the second time. At the time, they'd both thought the other was dead. This was the place they had stumbled upon each other's secrets. It made her smile nostalgically.

"What are you remembering?" Ianto asked.

She looked at him a little startled.

"Jack gets the same look on his face when he's lost in the past," he said with a smile.

"This was where Jack and I met the second time. I was in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force during the war. The wind blew off my hat and Jack picked it up right about…" Miranda led Ianto a few steps forward and to the right. "Here."

Normally, Ianto would be curious and ask Miranda about the rest of the story. He just sighed and looked out at Tower Bridge, not speaking for a few minutes. "There's a camera in the bedroom, Mandy."

"We've talked about this, Ifan. Have you changed your mind? We can figure something out. Maybe something feigned with the shower…" she trailed off thinking.

"No, it needs to be convincing," he said and let out an exasperated sigh. Ianto was frustrated. Since they'd discovered the cameras, he'd been attempting to acclimate himself to their presence by masturbating on the bed or the sofa. Every attempt had been disastrous, his erection waxing and waning as he tried to focus and forget the camera's presence. Ianto was worried he'd be unable to perform when the time came. For a young man in his sexual prime, the idea was mortifying.

"Is the prospect of sex with me so distasteful?" she teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"You know that's not the problem, Mandy. I don't like the circumstances," he said. "Tonight then?"

"Yes, tonight," she paused and took out a blue handkerchief and wiped her nose. "I'm going to have lunch with Methos. It'll give you time to review the tech."

"Blue?" Ianto asked. "There's a synagogue around here?"

"Not far on the north side of the river. It's quite beautiful, one of the oldest in London. There are too many churches and cemeteries here. It's easier to stick to synagogues and mosques," she said and then kissed him gently. "I'll see you back at the flat in a few hours."


	18. Chapter 18

After Miranda had left him standing by Tower Bridge, Ianto had decided to walk back to their flat and pick up a few groceries. He let himself into the flat, took off his coat and put the groceries away. He fixed himself a sandwich and opened himself up a beer, leaving both on the coffee table. He dug a shoebox out of the hall cupboard and shut the flat's blinds. He plopped down onto the sofa and dropped the box next to his sandwich, running his hand through his hair. He took the top off the box and removed the three pieces of alien tech. They had all decided that smaller pieces and items that could be easily removed from the Hub would be best. There was another box in the hall cupboard but Ianto didn't want to reveal all his cards at once.

The first item was the 'Brick Stick' and the second was a small medical scanner from the twenty sixth century, similar the kind you'd see on Star Trek. Ianto had had to laugh at the idea that yet another piece of technology had been derived from the science fiction show. The third item was a water filter that removed heavy metals and purified drinking water but unlike filters in the twenty first century, this filter was nearly inexhaustible.

After examining the alien artefacts for little over an hour, Ianto opened up his laptop and checked his fake e-mail account. He flipped through various advertisements and saw an e-mail from Fish. He'd set up a meeting for Ianto tomorrow morning with an old colleague of his.

Ianto smiled and, pretending to shift to a more comfortable position, he angled the laptop's screen towards the camera above the sofa. He smirked as he put the alien devices away and secured them back in the hall cupboard. He stood up, at a bit of a loss of what to do next. Looking around at the flat, it seemed pointless to tidy. He wasn't sure if it was because he was living with a woman or because he wasn't living with Jack but the flat was spotless. He resisted the urge to look up at where he knew the cameras were hidden. It was still long before the time when Ianto started dinner if he was going to cook but there was no harm in starting early. He opened the fridge. There were plenty of left overs but Ianto was pondering cooking merely to kill time when his mobile rang. With a groan he realised it was his sister. Since Rhiannon didn't know about Torchwood, when he'd moved back to London, he had had to lie to her, telling her the cover story.

"Hello, Rhi," he said.

"Well, it's about time! I've been calling you for weeks!" she yelled at him.

"I'm sorry. It's been a bit mad," he said. He shifted a few things around in the fridge, still trying to decide on dinner.

"You missed Christmas! Not even so much as a phone call!" Rhiannon despaired. "I know you're upset, Ianto but honestly! London?"

Ianto played along, it was fortifying his cover story. "He was cheating on me, Rhi. I'd had enough."

"I'm not saying you shouldn't have dumped the bastard but you didn't need to go running off to London again," Rhiannon said sadly.

"I've met someone, Rhi," Ianto said.

"You've met someone? Ianto, you're still on a rebound!"

"I hate that word," Ianto groaned, opening up a beer.

"Who is he?" Rhiannon asked suspiciously.

"She. She's a doctor at an A&E here in London," Ianto said. "She's good for me, Rhi."

"Good for you? Does she know about Mr. Film Star?" his sister asked, skeptical.

"Yes and she doesn't have a problem with it. She should be home soon," Ianto said looking at his watch.

"You two are living together? That's moving a bit fast isn't it, Ianto?" she asked, worried.

"I can't afford to live in London on my own, Rhi," Ianto said. "I met her in Cardiff. She was already moving to London. It just… worked out."

Ianto didn't hear his sister speak for a bit and figured she was digesting all the information.

"So tell me everything," Rhiannon asked.

Ianto took out ingredients from the fridge so he could cook and went about fixing dinner as he talked. The siblings continued to talk about Ianto's new job and the flat and Miranda, Ianto trying to stick to his cover story as much as possible. He had to admit that it was nice. Okay, he was lying to his sister about his job and Jack and his 'girlfriend' and, well, everything but this was the longest conversation Ianto had had with Rhiannon in years.

Meanwhile, a few blocks away, Miranda was talking with Methos. The two immortals had had lunch together and then sat talking quietly over the food catching up on the past twenty years. The small cafe wasn't crowded but Miranda still had the sound killing mobile in her purse. They had moved on to more current events.

"I believe Joe has managed to dissuade young Mr. Davies," Methos said.

"Mr. Dawson needn't do me any favors, Methos. I will handle Kiernan when all this is over."

Miranda had made her own discrete inquiries regarding Mr. Joe Dawson and so far she'd come up with nothing useful. The man was a veteran of the Vietnam war and had lost both of his legs in that conflict. He was a fairly normal man living a fairly normal life as a barkeep and jazz singer. She still had no idea why Duncan and Methos trusted him so much.

"He is still following you. Mr. Jones appears to have a different Watcher," Methos said, nodding to the window of the cafe. Kiernan was across the street, feigning waiting for a bus.

"No doubt happy that our work has brought us to London and closer to the Watcher library," Miranda said, sipping her coffee. She grimaced at the taste. "Who is Ifan's new Watcher?"

"I don't know. He's Black, short hair with a goatee, tall, slim build. I could have Mac find out more if you'd like," Methos said.

"Please, I'd like his name and any background information you can get me," Miranda said.

"You should exercise caution, my darling. The Watchers, Mac and I are not the only ones following you and Mr. Jones," Methos said as he sipped his tea.

"It's why I've enlisted your help," she said. "What have you seen?"

"Bit rusty are we?" he teased. When he saw the glare she gave him, he said, "The same as you, likely. There's usually a man following you, mortal, not one of us. My guess is he's ex-military. The same for the one following your Mr. Jones."

Miranda nodded. She'd expected someone following them but ex-military was causing concern.

"Is there anything else we can do to help?" Methos asked.

Miranda shook her head. "I'm sorry, my sweet, I can't tell you what's going on."

"You don't need to tell me your Torchwood business, Mei. Mac and I want to help. The sooner this is resolved, the better. Do you know how foolish it is for you to be wandering London unarmed?"

"A sacrifice for the greater good," she said gently.

"Your head is not an acceptable sacrifice," he snapped.

Miranda shook her head. "You know why I work for Torchwood."

"Your ridiculous concept of penance," he scoffed and rolled his eyes. "You're certain there is nothing we can do?"

She shook her head again. "No, nothing. I need you two to watch our backs not gather intel for Torchwood."

"We'll see what we can dig up," Methos said, finishing his tea.

"Methos-"

"Don't worry, we won't compromise yours or your Mr. Jones's safety," Methos said. "Amanda could come into town in a few days. We can have her help."

"That thieving harlot? Do not breathe a word of this to her, Methos!" she cried. Miranda despised Amanda Deveraux and didn't trust the immortal woman as far as she could throw her.

Methos held up both his hands, trying to placate her. "Mei, I know that you and Amanda have had your differences-"

"Differences? That woman is a beguiling vixen and I do not want her involved in any of this!" Miranda snapped. The last thing she needed was for Amanda to catch wind of this mission. The concept of profitable alien technologies would likely be too much for the master thief to ignore. There were far too many variables and unknowns in this case already without adding more fuel to the fire.

"All right, Mei, I promise, not a word," Methos said.

"Methos…"

"All right, on my head, I swear it, not a word from me or Duncan will be said to Amanda," Methos said. "Happy?"

"Exceedingly," she snapped. "I need to get back to the flat."

"Lunch again in a few days?" he asked.

"I'll let you know, just watch for the handkerchief," she said as she left and headed back towards the flat and Ianto.

She used the time to try to sort through her own personal feelings about tonight, wandering slowly through the streets of London as she walked back to the flat. Ianto was a handsome man who she cared about. She had always found him attractive but the simple fact of the matter was that Ianto Jones was not hers. Jack and Ianto's relationship always warmed her heart. Living at the Hub with the two of them, she often saw aspects of it that the others on the team did not and she loathed the idea of coming between them. When she had first joined the team, she had worried about that Ianto would misinterpret her and Jack's marriage and their continued close friendship and that her presence would become a source of friction between the two men. Miranda had seen the rare flash of jealousy, but after a few months on the team, they'd vanished.

Both men had extended invitations to her for sex on a numerous occasions both separately and jointly but she had always refused. Even though she had always turned down the joint invitation, it was the only situation where she would personally have considered bedding either man. Seeing them separately was something she was unwilling to do and now she was faced with it directly. It wasn't that she had issue with sleeping with Jack, it was that she had issue sleeping with Ianto.

She had to admit to jealousy of her own. It had been centuries since she'd known love as deep and as true as theirs. It was one of the reasons she'd been so angry when the two men had briefly broken up after Ianto's first death. She also had never known a man quite like Ianto Jones. The man accepted Jack for who he was and never expected nor wanted change. And Miranda was jealous of Jack and what he had in Ianto. The moment she'd recognised the jealousy, she'd had to admit it source… that she was a bit in love with the Welshman and that was a feeling she had stamped out well in its infancy by forming a close friendship with the man. She'd turned the love into something more platonic knowing the day would come when Ianto would become her student and Miranda never slept with her students, at least not while training them. Now she was turning over a stone she had wanted to leave alone.

It wasn't the only thing tugging at her heart. Last year when she'd broken up with her girlfriend, Nora Ashline, she'd been devastated. Miranda had spent most of her long life alone. Stretches of years or even decades without companionship were common for her. Unable to deal with the violence of Miranda's immortal life within the Game, Nora had broken off their relationship. She hadn't realised how lonely she'd been until she'd met Nora and once the woman had gone from her life, the loneliness had become an open wound. Her and Ianto's feigned domesticity was scratching at that wound now, making it bleed freely. Since the introduction of the cameras, the two had started falling asleep in each other's arms and Miranda found herself sleeping better than she had years. She knew it was only temporary, Ianto would return to the bed he shared with Jack and she would return to her rooms in the north sub-basement, lonelier than when all this had started.

She continued to walk through the streets, trying to sort through her own feelings. She knew she was being slightly foolish and that the best thing for her own safety was to return to the flat but halfway through her musings she stopped across the street. Looking up from the kerb, she saw Ianto on his mobile, talking to someone and smiling and instead of heading up to the flat, she continued walking.

It was nearly half six by the time she returned to the flat, her cheeks icy and her fingers a bit numb. Ianto took one look at her and immediately began to scold her. He sat her down on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket and then bustled off into the kitchen to make her some tea.

"No gloves. No scarf," he said, shaking his head.

"Are you going to tell me I'll catch my death of cold next?" she teased and was immediately a recipient of what Jack called 'The Frown'.

He put the tea down on the coffee table.

"I'm going to heat you some dinner," he said, kissing the top of her head.

She smiled at him. This is what tugged at her heart the most, how easily Ianto could make her feel completely cared for. She picked up the mug of tea, drinking deeply. It didn't take long for Ianto to portion out the noodles and chicken. _Smells lovely…_ she thought as she leaned over the plate. It looked like Ianto had tried to do something with the left over mushrooms and spinach, tossing them with egg noodles along with some chicken. She smiled again. Whenever Ianto was left with random ingredients, his fall back plan was to toss them all with pasta.

After dinner, the two snuggled on the sofa to watch the telly. Ianto was sprawled backwards, Miranda laying with her back against him between his legs. Ianto was sipping on some whiskey, hoping the alcohol would fog his brain enough so that he would forget about the cameras. He handed the empty glass to Miranda who put it on the coffee table and then settled back against him, idly running her hands up and down his thighs. Ianto resisted the urge to look up at the camera he knew was nearly above them. _Forget it's there. Just forget it._

Ianto pushed Miranda's hair to the side and kissed her shoulder. He felt her hand drifting to his inner thigh and he shivered. Miranda tilted her head, turning to kiss him and Ianto felt his body responding as he kissed her back. Living with Jack Harkness had gotten him used to frequent sex and he'd had nothing but his own hand for relief since they'd come to London over three weeks ago. Despite the niggling thoughts about the cameras in his mind, his pent up sexual frustration was causing his body to respond with rapid enthusiasm. Miranda's hand drifted up his pyjama clad leg, teasing the flies open and her hand slipped inside. Her fingertips trailing along his cotton clad erection and he shivered again, unable to suppress the moan that escaped his lips.

He tugged at her shoulders, flipping her to face him. He buried his nose in the crook of her neck, breathing deeply, inhaling the scent of jasmine and something else he couldn't quite identify. The closest thing he could think of was woodsmoke or a burning fireplace. She had the same sort of otherworldliness to her scent that Jack had. Ianto had never smelled anything like it. He assumed it was because she, too, was from another time, albeit from the past not the future. He tilted his head slightly, sucking hard on her pulse point and Miranda cried out, tilting her head to give him better access, pressing herself into him. Ianto concentrated on the feel of her body against him. It was a body silhouette he hadn't felt in years. He let his hands trail up and down her body, feeling soft curves under his hands instead of Jack's hard muscular planes. Just as Ianto started to relax, thoughts of the cameras pointed at the two of them creeped back into his brain and he stopped, leaning back.

"Ifan?" Miranda asked looking at him

"Bedroom," he said, trying to cover his hesitation with a desire to move to the bed.

Smiling broadly, she tugged Ianto to his feet, removing her camisole as she walked into the bedroom. Ianto followed a few moments later, tugging off his own white t-shirt and tossing it onto the bedroom floor. He would have liked to undress her himself teasingly slow but this wasn't about what either of them wanted. This was all display. Miranda was already nude, draped across the bed. _Christ she's so beautiful… _Ianto thought, taking her in. He slid his pyjama bottoms and briefs over his hips, feeling his erection slap against his belly. His clothes crumpled to the floor and he stepped out of them. Even though it was dark, standing there, nude in the room, Ianto felt suddenly self conscious and filled with dread at doing this for an audience. So powerful was the emotion that it was overriding his desire and his arousal began to falter.

Miranda rose from the bed in one swift movement and kissed him, throwing her arms around his neck. When she broke the kiss, she trailed her lips across his cheek, licking a spot on his neck below his ear. Ianto felt himself hardening again and Miranda whispered in his ear, "Concentrate on me, Ifan."

Ianto nodded his head a fraction of an inch and then slid his arms down her sides, cupping his hands under her arse. He lifted her off the floor and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He climbed onto the bed with her in his arms, laying her back. He transferred his weight to his hands so he could attack her neck with his mouth, sucking gently on the skin. He pushed his hips forward, rubbing his arousal into her thigh as his hand moved on to her breast, rolling the nipple in his fingers. She let out a sharp cry of pleasure, arching into his touch. He trailed his mouth down, tasting her skin. He replaced his fingers with his mouth, sucking greedily on her breast, swirling his tongue.

"Oh my God…" she cried out, arching herself up into his mouth, her fingers twining in his hair.

The phrase was another reminder of their ruse. It was the first time Ianto had heard Miranda utter the word 'god' in the male singular. He pushed aside the thought. He tongued at her nipple one last time before moving to her other breast, rolling the abandoned nub in his fingers. Miranda trembled underneath him. After he'd released her other nipple, he surged upwards, capturing her mouth with his, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him close. He sat back, sweeping her up so she was seated in his lap.

Suddenly, she pulled back, staring deeply into his eyes, pausing to remind him of their ruse. This had to be convincing. They were supposed to be in love. He lifted his hand, running fingertips through her hair, enjoying the feel of the satiny strands running over his skin. She raised her hand to his face, her fingertips brushing along his cheek. He moved to close the distance between them and kissing her again. As they kissed, he manoeuvered them onto the bed further, gently guiding her back down so her head rested on the pillow.

He began licking his way down her torso, pausing to dip his tongue into her navel. The scent of jasmine and woodsmoke growing stronger as he neared her sex. He traced the tip of his tongue down between her folds and settling his mouth over her clit, sucking hard. Her legs jerked reflexively and a stream of obscenities flew from her lips. He felt her fingers twist into his hair gently. It had been years since he'd known the taste and feel of a woman and he was painfully hard, all thoughts of the cameras watching them banished from his lust clouded mind. He draped one of her legs over his shoulder as he reached up, sliding two fingers into her wet heat. Ianto pressed his fingers upwards into her g-spot and was rewarded with a shouted obscenity. He continued to work his fingers and slide his tongue over and around her clit, pushing her towards her climax. Suddenly, he felt a gush of moisture and her muscles convulsing around his fingers as Miranda's back arched and she came hard. She cried out his name followed by a scream so loud, Ianto felt bad for the neighbors.

He moved up her body and kissed her, shivering as she savored the taste of herself on his mouth, her tongue swiping over his chin. He lowered his hips and entered her slowly marveling at the old sensation of sinking into the tight, wet heat of a woman. His eyes slammed shut at the intense pleasure. _Fuck! She's so tight!_ She was so tight in fact that Ianto was having trouble penetrating her. It took some time but once he was fully sheathed inside her, they both sighed. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the old sensation, lacing his fingers with hers and kissing her deeply. She let out a frustrated keen, pushing up against him, trying to force him to move.

"Fuck, give me a minute…" he stammered into her ear, a bare whisper. He wanted to savour this a little. After a few moments, he gave a tentative thrust and she pushed her hips up to meet him.

"Yes… more," she whispered breathlessly into his ear.

He began a slow rhythm of sharp thrusts that drew low throaty moans from her. He reached back, pulling her right knee forward towards her chest. It changed his angle slightly. She threw her head back and gasped, her hands gripping at his biceps. "God… right there… harder…"

He smiled and did his best to keep that angle and his name become a mantra spilling from her lips over and over again. He felt her nails digging painfully into his back as his thrusting became faster and erratic, Ianto could feel his own orgasm growing close. He usually loved the shared ecstasy of simultaneous orgasm but not this time. He wanted her to come first so that he could watch her. Her breath was coming in short gasps and he knew that she was close. She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him down for a kiss.

"Come for me, Mandy… I want to watch you come," he whispered in her ear.

"Ifan… oh God… don't… don't stop…" she gasped over and over.

He increased his pace and changed his angle slightly, pushing into her impossibly deep. He felt another gush of moisture and another ear piercing scream as her second orgasm ripped through her and she screamed his name. Ianto smiled as he watched her come. It was beautiful. Her face was flushed and thrown to the side, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. She had her mouth open in a voiceless shout, her hand twisted into the pillowcase. He could see her pulse racing in her neck beneath the smooth skin. He thrust into her slowly, allowing her to enjoy the aftershocks, smiling again at the small shudders that went through her body. He was enjoying the sight until he remembered that someone else was enjoying the sight as well and white hot anger lanced through his chest. This was his first time making love to her and they were tainting it. They were watching. They were dictating the circumstances. Jack could have been here with him to enjoy her as well but he wasn't. He and Miranda should have been able to have whatever night they wanted, but instead, they were putting on a show. Ianto felt dirty, used, and so, so angry.

He saw red as he thrust into her faster and harder. His pace and force increased slowly as the anger and rage drove his orgasm further and further out of his reach. He barely noticed Miranda beneath him, asking for him to stop. Her face was etched with pain and she had both hands planted firmly on his chest.

"IANTO!" she cried. "You're hurting me… stop!"

He continued to ignore her. Miranda saw Ianto's eyes squeezed tightly shut. It wasn't pleasure and joy she saw. His face was contorted with rage. She realised what was happening and swallowed the pain, allowing the situation to play out. If she wanted to put a stop to this, she was more than capable. She could have Ianto off of her and crumpled dead on the floor before he knew what had hit him. She allowed him to vent his aggression and rage on her. The coil of tension, stress and long buried hurt and anger was finally snapping and it was what he needed. She braced one hand against the headboard to keep herself from sliding up the bed as he pounded into her ruthlessly. She clenched her jaw and gripped onto his arm with her other hand, closed her eyes and waited.

Finally, with almost a snarl, Ianto ejaculated and then he let out a strangled sob. Miranda felt a harsh burn as he came, the come running out of her onto the sheets. She knew it would be red with blood. Panting heavily, Ianto collapsed on top of her and he let out another sob.

"Ifan, please…" Miranda pushing at his shoulders to move him off her.

Ianto came to his senses, his eyes going wide with shock. He rolled off of her, jumping off the bed. He saw her thighs and the stained sheets beneath her. He looked down at himself, his flaccid penis was slick with blood and shining with come. Bile rose in his throat and he fought the urge to be sick. _What the fuck have I done…_

He opened his mouth but anything he could think to say felt inadequate. He grabbed his pyjama bottoms off the floor and fled the room. She heard the tap in the kitchen turn on. Miranda sat up in the bed. The damage was already healing, the burning pain was fading. She waited until it had gone completely before standing and heading for the small en suite. She ran the shower and cleaned herself up and got dressed. She stripped the sheets from the bed, replacing them with new ones. She dumped the sheets into the bin and then went in search of Ianto.

She saw him out on the balcony, the door shut, smoking a cigarette. After taking the sound killing mobile and the pack of cigarettes from her purse, she poured him a stiff drink and stepped out onto the balcony, making sure to close the sliding glass door behind her. He was standing bent over with his forehead against the railing.

"Ifan? Are you all right?" she asked.

"I should be asking you that, Mandy," he said, not looking up. "How the fuck can you even look at me?"

"Ifan-"

"No, Mandy! You asked me to stop. Fuck, I really hurt you," he despaired, feeling a wave of nausea as he remembered the bloody sight. "I should have stopped."

"You've fought me. Do you think I couldn't have stopped you myself?" she asked, handing him the glass of whiskey.

"That's not the point, Mandy!"

"It is, Ifan! I allowed you to take out your aggression on me. It was what you needed."

"What I needed… and what the fuck does that make me? No better than that bastard you killed last year!" Ianto said throwing the half smoked cigarette over the railing and downing the liquor.

"You are _nothing_ like Adaf Terfel! He raped and murdered and wanted more but you are beside yourself," she said. "Tell me that you and Jack have never gotten overly aggressive with each other?"

"I crossed a line in there with you, Mandy," Ianto said, putting the glass down on the small plastic table. "And Jack and I are different."

"Why? Because you're men?" Miranda said defiantly.

Ianto's sheepish expression was all Miranda needed.

"Am I really some delicate flower to you, Ifan?" she said, a little angry.

"It's not that, Mandy," he said. "I was raised to respect women."

"Ah yes, chivalry. What outright nonsense," she said sarcastically. "You're more than welcome to hold the door open for a lady, Ifan but do not make the mistake in the Game of underestimating or showing mercy to a female opponent. Many women use such assumptions to their advantage."

Ianto sighed. Lately, Miranda turned everything into some sort of lesson about the Game. It was growing tiresome.

"Can you stop with all the bloody lessons," Ianto snapped, the whiskey talking.

Miranda's voice turned to ice, the cadence changing. "Either you are my student, Ifan, or you aren't. I will not waste my energies on someone who does not want to be taught. It is your own life you foolishly endanger and I hope that isn't a lesson you learn the hard way."

Angry, she stormed back into the flat. She tossed Ianto's pillow out into the lounge along with the duvet from the bed and then slammed the bedroom door, locking it.


	19. Chapter 19

The next morning, Miranda and Ianto had acted chilly towards each other. Miranda had gotten up, packed a bagel and left without a word to him. Ianto was still guilt ridden over their disastrous sexual encounter and he felt badly for snapping at her afterwards. The strain of the cover was finally getting to the both of them. He'd try to make it up to her later.

Once she was gone, Ianto called in sick to his own job. He had a meeting to go to. Deciding to keep his options open, he put the 'Brick Stick', the medical scanner and the water filter into a briefcase and dressed in one of his best suits. He took the tube into London's business district and strode into the building's lobby. After speaking with the receptionist, he sat down in one of the armchairs, watching the people come and go as he waited.

"Well if it isn't Ianto Jones," came a deep voice from behind him.

_That was faster than I thought it would be… _Ianto recognised the London accent of Lawrence Hastings. He hadn't expected someone to make contact so quickly. He got up from his seat and forced a broad smile.

"Lance Hastings," he said brightly, the older man's nickname coming to him suddenly.

"Good to see you, Jones. I'm not surprised you remember my name," Hastings said with a smile. Ianto's memory had been well known throughout the Torchwood building. "How have you been?"

"Fine," Ianto said. "Yourself?"

"Things are looking up. No where to go but up from all that nonsense, eh, Jones?"

"No, I suppose not," he said, forcing down some anger. He waved around the lobby. "Do you work here?"

Hastings shook his head. "No, I saw you come in. Thought we might get some coffee."

"I have a meeting, Lance, sorry," Ianto said, tersely.

"You don't want to keep that meeting, Jones. You want to come with me," Hastings said, slipping his hand into his coat pocket and exposing the butt of a gun.

Ianto feigned fear and said, "Not leaving me much choice are you?"

"No, Jones, I'm afraid I'm not," he said.

Pushing himself out of the chair, Ianto told the receptionist he had to leave and to give his apologies to their head of research. He left the lobby, walking in front of Hastings who led him down into the nearest underground station. Hastings directed him to the men's toilet. He shoved him into the handicapped stall at the end, shutting the door and pulling the gun from his pocket.

"Turn around, Jones, hands on the wall," he said.

"Not happening," Ianto snapped.

"I need to frisk you for weapons," Hastings said.

With a sigh, Ianto turned and obeyed, planting his hands on the tile wall. He felt bile rise in his throat as Hastings ran his hands over him, checking him for weapons. Once he was done, Hastings stepped back and said, "Sorry about that, Jones."

"Fuck you," Ianto snapped turning around. "What do you want?"

Hastings nodded at the case. "Whatever alien tech you have in there."

"Who says it's alien and who says it's tech?"

The other man just looked at him. "Don't try to be clever here, Jones. I know you're Torchwood Three."

"Not anymore," Ianto said defiantly.

"Harkness always was a lech. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"Fuck you, Lance," Ianto snapped. "And if you think I'm going to let you just take that case, you're mistaken."

"I'm the one with the gun here," he said. "You're in no position to do otherwise."

"I was a field agent at Three, not some office puppet like I was at One. So if you think having that gun means you're safer, by all means, continue with the delusion," Ianto pointed down at the case. "I need that. Do you have any idea how much what's in that case is worth?"

Ianto was surprised at the change in Hastings's expression. The man's face softened and his grip on the gun seemed to waiver.

"Look, Jones, I know what happened to Lisa and I'm sorry," he said.

"What the fuck do you know about it?" Ianto asked, angry.

"That she was converted. That you spent every penny trying to save her and then some," Hastings said, with pity.

"So?" Ianto snapped.

"So I get it, Jones," Hastings said. Ianto could swear the man's eyes were shining with tears.

"You get what?"

"That you would've done anything for her."

"Your point, Lance?"

"Amy," he said simply.

"Amy Cole?" Ianto asked, confused. Amy Cole had been Hastings's personal assistant. "What about her?"

"I loved her, not that a young pretty thing like her'd given me the time of day. I wasn't brave like you, Jones. I watched them convert her. I froze and then I ran. I left her behind," Hastings said choking a little. He had been intent on taking what he wanted but now Ianto could see doubt in Hastings's eyes. "Look, if you have more, we can make a deal."

Ianto tried not to appear to eager. "What kind of deal?"

"The profitable kind, Jones," Hastings said. "Let me talk to my associates. I'll be in touch."

"How?" Ianto asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Oh, I'll figure something out," Hastings said, undoing the latch on the stall's door. Right before he stepped through, he turned to Ianto and said, "By the way, that new one of yours is quite pretty. Be a shame if you lost another one."

Ianto suppressed an eye roll at the cliche threat. He pitied anyone Hastings sent after Miranda. She'd send whoever it was back to him in pieces but he came to her defence nonetheless. "If you lay a fucking finger on her, I'll kill you myself."

Hastings gave him a smile and left him alone in the stall. Ianto grabbed the case and darted after him but lost him in the crowded tube station.

Ianto went back to the flat immediately. He went straight for the alien tech hidden in the back of the hall cupboard. The other box that contained the rest of the alien tech was gone. Ianto cursed his and Miranda's stupidity. He was lucky he'd decided to take the three pieces with him when he'd left. They were all he had now. He tried to think of how he could secure them at the flat in a way consistent with their cover story and came up with nothing. He'd have to discuss it with Miranda when she got back from work.

He tried to spend the rest of the day acting normal which in his case meant figuring out how to apologise to his angry 'girlfriend'. Taking the briefcase with him, Ianto stopped at a flower shop and got Miranda's favourite Indian take-away. He set the flat up for an intimate dinner and waited for Miranda to get home. Ianto played the remorseful boyfriend and Miranda the reluctantly forgiving girlfriend and after dinner, the two stepped out on the balcony under the guise of smoking. Ianto hadn't smoked like this since he was a teenager. Miranda smoked barely once a week but it was the perfect ruse to get them out onto the balcony. _Not like it's going to kill us… _

"We shouldn't have left the tech in the cupboard," Ianto said. "It was stupid."

"A moot point now," Miranda said. "We underestimated them. I talked to Methos. He's seen the same as us. They have both have someone following us. He also thinks they're ex-military."

"This operation is different than we thought, Mandy. We thought it was Brogen and Hastings and maybe a few scientists. We weren't expecting mercenaries," Ianto said, tossing his cigarette over the ledge. "Maybe we should call in UNIT."

Miranda considered for a minute. "Not yet. We need more intelligence. We stick to the plan. In the meantime, we'll stash the tech in a safety deposit box in a bank. It'll be safer than keeping it at the flat."

"I'll go to the bank tomorrow," Ianto said. "It could be a while before he makes contact again. Fish said he's nearly done falsifying the information we need. I guess we're back to waiting."

The first phase of their plan was nearly complete. Everything up to this point had been designed to lure Hastings and Brogen in and have them make contact with Ianto. The second phase of the plan was for Ianto to gain Hastings and Brogen's trust and to get the two men to include Ianto in their schemes so that he could gather more intelligence and information about the operation. The team had felt that the best way for Ianto to do that was to offer Hastings and Brogen more of what they needed - marketable alien tech that was easily reverse engineered. So Fish had set to work falsifying archives information and creating a fake database that Ianto would be able to easily hack into.

Ianto tossed his cigarette over the balcony railing. "I'm knackered. Coming to bed?"

"I'll be in shortly," Miranda said, tossing her cigarette over the railing as well and lighting another one.

He quirked an eyebrow but left her alone nonetheless. Miranda sat there in the plastic chair, smoking slowly, trying to decompress a little. The strain of the deep cover was finally beginning to get to both of them.

Despite having worked for Torchwood for over half a century, Miranda had never gone into deep cover before. This was the first and, she sincerely hoped, the last time. Many often assumed that she donned a persona when she changed names but that was hardly the case. Yes, as time went on she had changed, but it was slow change over the course of centuries. She was essentially the same person she'd been a few hundred years ago and that was a difficult thing to mask. One of the reasons she enjoyed returning to work for Torchwood was that it was an environment where she didn't have to pretend or censor herself. Over the centuries she had picked up mannerisms, patterns of speech and odd habits that others found eccentric or strange because they were anachronistic with modern life. When she was living out in the mortal world, those things were suppressed in public and relaxed at home. Now, there was no relaxation possible. She was constantly watching what she was saying and doing and it was beginning to wear on her.

It was worth it. Their ruse seemed to be working. Ianto's insights into Hastings were important. Originally, because of Hastings's middle management status with Torchwood One, they had assumed he was the mastermind but if he was the one in charge, it was unlikely he would have been the one to make initial contact with Ianto. It was likely Brogen was at the heart of it all but either way it made no change to their plans.

It wasn't just the case that was getting to Miranda. Walking about the city unarmed had her stomach in knots. It had been weeks and it was a sheer miracle that neither of them had encountered any one of the probably dozen or so immortals who lived and worked in the city or any one of the dozens of immortals that probably traveled through it every day.

Miranda continued to breath in the acrid smoke, letting it burn her throat. As she felt herself relax, her mind turned back to her conversation with Methos earlier. Despite his assurances that Dawson had put a stop to Kiernan's investigations, Miranda didn't trust the Watcher as far as she could throw him. She'd need to look into it herself but it would have to wait for her return to Cardiff. Finally afforded time to think, Miranda tried to figure out what she'd said or done to make Kiernan suspicious. The only thing she decided it could have been was her first death information. Something about it must have been inconsistent with something somewhere, whether true or not. She cursed her stupidity as she tossed the cigarette over the railing and lit another one.

The sound of the sliding door made her turn, Ianto was looking at her.

"Mandy? You all right?" he asked. "You've been out here for hours."

"I'm fine, Ifan," she said softly. She hadn't realised it had been so long. "What time is it?"

"Half two," he said.

"Did you sleep?" she asked.

"A little. I woke up and you weren't there. I was worried," he said. She saw him retrieve his coat and then he stepped out onto the balcony, closing the door behind him. "What's wrong, Mandy?"

She didn't answer him but sat smoking for a bit. Ianto had asked her weeks ago about her own first death and she still had yet to tell him. She normally told her students her entire life story, hoping that they could gain some wisdom from it. The story of her first death was hanging heavy in her mind from her musings about Kiernan's suspicions. _No time like the present… _

"Is it the mission?" he asked and then added when she didn't answer, "Have I done something?"

"No, Ifan," she said. "I was thinking about Kiernan."

"That was weeks ago," Ianto said. "Did Adam say he's found something new?"

She shook her head. "Not as such. I believe I made an error in providing our young Mr. Davies with my first death information."

"What? Why did you do that?" Ianto gasped. Out of a morbid curiosity he had asked Miranda one day about it over breakfast and Miranda had declined to answer because of Kiernan's proximity. He was surprised that she'd told the Watcher at all.

"It was quid pro quo, my friend," she said, lighting another cigarette. "He wanted to know and I needed a favor."

"The meeting with Connolly and Rosen," Ianto breathed. "Christ, Mandy you didn't have to do that for me!"

She gave him a dismissive wave. "Neither here nor there, Ifan. It was my error. I could have used some other means to gain Kiernan's cooperation. He showed an interest in my first death information so I used it for convenience."

She took a long drag from her cigarette and said, "Do you mind getting me a drink, Ifan?"

"One soda, coming up," he said with a smile.

She shook her head. "The whiskey, straight up. A double."

Ianto raised his eyebrow but went back into the flat. He'd never seen Miranda drink anything stronger than a beer or a glass of wine and he could count how many times he'd seen that on one hand. He poured her the drink nonetheless and took it out to her. She took the glass from him and saluted him with it.

"Iechyd da," she said and, to his shock, downed the drink one swallow. The corners of her lips drew back at the burn and she put the glass down on the plastic table. Ianto saw the flush spread across her cheeks immediately, her eyes half closed. Miranda had little tolerance for alcohol, usually only half a beer making her tipsy and flushed.

"When I was a little girl, my mother died of a fever," she said, softly.

Ianto's eyes went wide and he sat down in the plastic chair before he fell over. He'd gotten to know Miranda quite well over the past few years she'd been with Torchwood and she had told a few small stories about her history but Miranda had never spoken of something like this. He couldn't even picture her as a little girl. Her eyes were far too old.

"I took over care of the household, trying to fill my mother's shoes but my father hated me and it wasn't enough," she said.

A look of revulsion and anger came over Ianto's face and Miranda added quickly, "It's not what you're thinking, Ifan. He merely ignored me and the first chance he got, he sold me to a local warlord for some livestock. I think it may have been a sow… perhaps two... I don't remember."

Ianto could hear her words beginning to slur slightly. Miranda's face scrunched as she tried to remember but then she shrugged and continued with her story. "I joined the warlord's harem. He was a decent man who treated me with well but that's all I remember about him."

"How old were you?" Ianto asked.

"Barely past maturity," she said. "Thirteen? Twelve? I don't remember."

"Christ, Mandy…" Ianto said.

"Lives were short back then, Ifan. Once a girl reached maturity, she was usually married and a mother by the time she reached twenty. I was well cared for in his encampment, fed and clothed. When the warlord tired of me and no longer took me to his bed, I wasn't cast out," she shrugged. "It was the twenty first century equivalent of taking a mistress and setting her up in a posh flat."

Ianto could hear her words had started to slur further, the alcohol taking more of a hold.

"I lived in his harem for years. He bored of me when I proved to be barren. A younger and more aggressive warlord attacked us," she said. "I was probably in my early or mid-twenties."

"Was that how you died?" Ianto asked.

Miranda shook her head, crossing her arms in front of her, hugging her chest. "The men were killed. Most of the young women, the girls and the boys were claimed as a spoil of war but we were too many mouths to feed. Some of us starved but most of us were called to the warlord's bed, never to return."

"You must have been terrified," Ianto said softly, reaching for a cigarette from the pack and then handed one to Miranda, lighting it for her. She smiled in thanks, blowing the smoke out of her lungs slowly.

"We all were," she said, shifting in her seat, tucking her legs under her. "One day my time came and I was determined to face death with courage."

Ianto's heart broke slightly at the far off look in her eyes. He'd seen her speak of darkness in her past before but never like this. When she'd spoke about being held captive on a ship for nearly two years, held at the mercy of the crew, she had spoken of it calmly with a slight tremor to her voice and a sad look in her eyes. Now, she looked haunted. Even the way she was seated in the plastic chair was strange. She was hugging her belly, her legs drawn tightly in as if she was trying to make herself seem as small as possible.

"He gave me to his men first. When they had each taken their turn, they threw me into the warlord's tent. His appetites were… deviant. By the time he was done with me, I was praying for death."

Ianto decided he didn't want to know what Miranda would consider deviant. He was nearly overcome by the urge to gather her up in his arms but he resisted reaching for her.

"Something snapped in my mind that night. It was near dawn when he came at me again and I started to laugh at him and I couldn't stop," Miranda said softly, smiling. "He beat me to death. I revived in a field."

Miranda took a long drag from the cigarette then flicked the ash away. "The Watchers believe that I am Chen Mao-Lin, an immortal born over two thousand years ago who was a courtesan to the Emperor Qin Shi Huang. I told Kiernan only that I had displeased the Emperor and that he had beaten me to death."

"Just enough truth mixed with a lie," Ianto said.

"Something raised his suspicions," she said with a shrug and then reached for the whiskey glass, forgetting it was empty. Ianto nearly smiled at the confused look on her face when she went to drink from it and found it empty. When she put the glass back down, she fumbled it, the glass tipping and falling over. She scrambled to put the glass back upright, looking confused again that it was empty. She was nearly drunk. There was a time when he would have paid good money to see Miranda Ryan drunk but this wasn't the least bit funny.

"How did you decide on the name?" he asked, curious.

"Convenience," she said.

"Adam called you Mei back at the mosque in Cardiff," Ianto said, giving into his curiosity and feeling a bit guilty for taking advantage of her drunken state. It wasn't a curiosity he was alone in. Jack, Gwen and Fish all wondered what the woman's true name was. Nearly everyone Ianto had met referred to Miranda differently. The only consistency seemed to be the Watchers and the immortals of the Game in Miranda's life. Everyone else referred to her by some other alias.

She nodded. "Yi Mei-Xiu. My mother named me Mei-Xiu. Yi was my first husband's surname."

She reached up for the bronze necklace she always wore, forgetting that she'd left it back at the Hub, locked away in Jack's personal safe. Ianto saw a moment of panic come over her eyes before she remembered. "He was my teacher. After I revived, I wandered the countryside. I may have died a few times from exposure I don't remember. I was delirious with hunger and thirst by the time I collapsed. He found me and took me in. He taught me the Game and the sword… and then later he taught me love. We were together three hundred years."

Ianto saw her swallow, her eyes shining a little more in the darkness. "What happened?"

"What happens to us all, Ifan," Miranda said ruefully. Her cigarette had gone out and she relit it. "He was killed."

The grief that passed over her face was profound. _Four thousand years and she still mourns him…_ Ianto thought to himself. Grief always seemed to be the emotion that hit Miranda the hardest. The pain from losing those she loved never appeared to diminish no matter how much time had passed.

"What made you decide to change your name?" he asked.

"I had just returned to China from abroad when I encountered the real Chen Mao-Lin," Miranda said with a shrug. "It was convenient."

"She was real? I thought you made the name up," Ianto exclaimed, tossing his cigarette over the railing. He was surprised that Miranda's words were so lucid, she was slurring heavily now. His surprise was short lived as her sentences became shorter and more clipped.

She shook her head. "Simpler. I took her head and her name."

"She challenged you?" Ianto asked.

"No, the other way round. An easy kill," Miranda said. "I fought more back then."

"What will you do about Kiernan?" he asked.

"Adam said it's taken care of… by Dawson," Miranda said with a scoff. "I'll have to be certain. I won't let him endanger me. Trust me, Ifan, I take no pleasure in it."

"You don't think that will draw attention to what he was researching?" Ianto asked.

It was a point already brought up by Methos but Miranda wasn't concerned. "No, an accident will be best… a mugging… a home invasion. Likely he's kept it to himself."

"Maybe you should talk to him first," he said. Despite the serious topic, he was a little amused. Miranda was very articulate and polished and the drink had made her far from both.

"I haven't decided. Enough stories," she said stretching up and tossing her cigarette over the railing and missed, the burning stub fell onto the balcony. She ignored it, stood up and lost her balance.

"Easy!" Ianto said, gripping her arm.

"Take me to bed, Ifan," she said, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him.

Ianto held onto her as she stumbled again. A curious question was going to be the only thing he took away from his friend's drunken state. One handed he opened the sliding door, sweeping her into his arms as she smiled.

"I think you need to sleep this off, Mandy," he said, gently as he carried her into the bedroom. He sat her down on the bed and started to undress her. After he'd slipped her under the blankets, he got back into the bed next to her and spooned her from behind. She slept fitfully through the night, waking Ianto a few times with weeping, talking or calling out in her sleep. He was reminded vividly of when she'd been exposed to an alien drug as she muttered in languages he didn't understand. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed his body into her as tightly as he could, whispering soothing words of his own, trying to chase the nightmares away. Ianto already had plenty of nightmares of his own but he wondered how long it would be before, like Miranda and Jack, the nightmares kept him awake more often than not.


	20. Chapter 20

Kiernan had watched from afar, smirking a little at Ianto and Miranda's feigned domesticity. He had to admit their act was flawless and the only reason he knew it was an act was because he was privy to the truth. He'd be more amused if he wasn't back in London. Kiernan disliked the city. He had lived here during his tenure in the research department and he was not pleased to be back. Following Miranda around the city had been challenging. He couldn't linger inside the hospital where she worked too often or her colleagues would begin to notice. So he was forced to watch from outside the building. With more people and larger crowds, keeping an eye on his target was much harder but it didn't take him long to settle into a routine.

Not long after he'd arrived, Kiernan had told Shawn he needed to take care of something personal and had made his way back to the Watcher library. He had spent all day there, reading various chronicles, combing through Duncan MacLeod's life and all his known associates, past and present. He had started with Connor MacLeod moving on through the ages - Amanda Deveraux, Hugh Fitzcairn, May-Ling Shen, Kate Devaney, Richie Ryan… Each name had turned up nothing. Most of these people weren't old enough to have encountered Chen Mao-Lin before she'd assumed that identity and most of them were now dead.

Now that Kiernan was focusing on actual chronicles, there was far more reading than the bits and pieces he had combed through before. He ended up spending nearly a whole week in the library, leaving Miranda mostly unwatched. He was taking a foolish risk doing so. London was a massive city. There were nearly twenty immortals living and working there and many more passed through the city on a daily basis. Leaving Miranda for a day wasn't a good idea but an entire week was lunacy.

Watchers were entitled to their own lives and a break from their work but anything longer than a few days away from their targets and Kiernan needed to notify those above him in the organisation, especially when he was in a city as large as London. He couldn't do that here without calling attention to his research and right now, Kiernan had a few vague notions and some random ideas but nothing solid. He had nothing that would change anything about Chen Mao-Lin's chronicle. If it was discovered that he'd been spending his time in the library researching some wild theory, he'd face disciplinary action, at the very least. At the most? He could lose his field certification and get bumped back to research.

Now, he'd hit the bottom of the barrel - the chronicle of Adam Pierson, MacLeod's lover. Kiernan hadn't bothered with this chronicle before because it was woefully incomplete. Nothing was known about Pierson except that he was sharing MacLeod's bed and that the two of them had killed three immortals together but within the rules of engagement. Kiernan wasn't interested in who MacLeod or Pierson were killing.

Kiernan tossed aside Pierson's chronicle and returned to reading the latest volumes of MacLeod's from the point where Pierson came into his life and on. It was an odd portion but was also part of Dawson's tenure as his Watcher. Kiernan could easily see why Dawson's chronicling was coming under scrutiny. Portions were less detailed than others, usually portions where Kiernan suspected Dawson had interfered.

Dawson had noted that Pierson and MacLeod had met in New York in the early nineties and had made a few notations about their romance. Every Watcher had their own chronicling style. Kiernan had read chronicles that were intensely detailed to the point of being ridiculous, like what the immortal had eaten for breakfast. On the other end of the spectrum were chronicles that were nothing more than dates and names. Dawson seemed to have found a place in the middle, detailing MacLeod's personal life as well as his movement in the Game. It was similar to Kiernan's own style, though Kiernan tended to include more personal information. Some Watchers didn't feel it necessary to include mortals in chronicles but Kiernan felt differently. They were no less important parts of immortals' lives. Kiernan had devoted a small section of Chen Mao-Lin's chronicle to her last girlfriend, Nora Ashline.

Dawson seemed similar and had devoted sections of MacLeod's chronicle to the Highlander's love affair with Tessa Noel. Her murder had devastated MacLeod and Kiernan's heart went out to the man. It was clear Dawson had included portions of the relationship he found particularly romantic, writing in amusing detail about how MacLeod had leapt from a bridge onto a boat where Tessa had been guiding a tour, charming the young woman. As Kiernan read on, he was surprised that Dawson seemed to be merely glancing over MacLeod's love affair with Pierson. It was nothing new. MacLeod had had male lovers as well as immortal lovers. The combination of the two wasn't a great leap. There was no mention of how the two men had met, only that it had been in New York in the early nineties. Perhaps the homosexual nature of the relationship made Dawson uncomfortable? It wouldn't be the first time a Watcher was guilty of such bias.

Kiernan flipped back to Pierson's chronicle. He had only skimmed through it before, glancing for any mention of Chen Mao-Lin but there was none. He was shocked that the chronicle was so incomplete and piecemeal. It seems that nothing was known about Adam Pierson before he'd come into MacLeod's life. Kiernan attempted to access the research server, to see if they were working on anything relating to Pierson… and his access was denied. _Odd… _That had never happened before. He shrugged it off.

It was possible someone had royally cocked something up and the repair department was conducting a formal inquiry. He'd heard of such things happening before. The entire chronicle would be removed from the archive and a 'shell' chronicle would be put in its place for reference but usually research labeled shell chronicles as such. _Overlooked? _Sometimes small things like that slipped through the cracks. Kiernan looked at the file's time stamp and his eyes went wide. The file hadn't been edited in over a year! Kiernan was required to submit changes and updates to Mao-Lin's chronicle monthly, at the least, even if he had nothing to add or change.

Kiernan had no idea what was going on but something was very wrong and it was something that he was quite sure he shouldn't be shoving his nose into. Whatever was happening with Pierson's chronicle, it went to the highest levels. Kiernan sat back, wondering exactly what he had stumbled over. Was it some conspiracy? What were they all trying to hide? What the hell was going on?

Kiernan brought up Chen Mao-Lin's chronicle again to see if Pierson and MacLeod were mentioned anywhere. He knew she had been in New York at the time doing her surgical residency but had never spent much time with MacLeod. Her work took up nearly all of her time and her marriage had ended in divorce. Kiernan noted that the legal department had added a footnote to the chronicle that had not been there several years ago. It was Miranda's divorce papers. Kiernan brought the papers up and pity filled him. Miranda had cited adultery and irretrievable breakdown in the relationship as grounds for the divorce. Her husband, Adam Ryan, had not contested it, admitted to the infidelity and the two had gone their separate ways. He wondered at the name for a minute.

Chen Mao-Lin's current mortal alias was Miranda Ryan. The man had cheated on her, why would she take his name again? Had she truly loved the man that much? It was a break from her usual naming pattern. Chen Mao-Lin's aliases tended to only be a handful of common Chinese surnames, Yi, Xiao, Chen, Wu and Cho used in combination with a first name that either began with the letter 'M' or 'E'. Her choices had been more Western over the past century or two but she traditionally stuck to this pattern.

A small light bulb went on over Kiernan's head. Adam was a common name but could Adam Ryan and Adam Pierson be the same person? Many immortals stuck to some pattern or kept the same first name as they went through alias after alias. It was a ridiculous stretch.

He closed down the research programs and brought up an Internet web browser. He needed to find a picture of Adam Ryan. He started searching for any pictures associated with Columbia Presbyterian Hospital, eventually coming to a cancer fundraiser. The organisers of the event were in a picture, posing together. Kiernan saw Miranda in the background, unchanged even after all this time, wearing a black gown. He checked the photo credit, making note of the photographer and the newspaper. He needed more pictures from that event.

It took him days to track down the photojounalist, a man named Alan Meath, a retiree living in North Carolina. Meath had been all too willing to help Kiernan with his piece on New York philanthropy and had overnighted the negatives to Kiernan in London. What Kiernan hadn't expected was for it to be so difficult to find someone to develop them. By the time Kiernan had seen Miranda and Ianto load the Torchwood technician, Joseph Fischer, onto a train, he had the pictures developed and had started examining them for Miranda's face. After Shawn Graham told him that Ianto Jones had been accosted by Lawrence Hastings, Kiernan knew he couldn't risk leaving Miranda unwatched. Shawn was losing patience with him anyway and Kiernan didn't want the other Watcher reporting him so Kiernan stuck to his target.

Today, he was eating his lunch at the small cafe outside the hospital, watching the doorway that Miranda used to leave and enter work. The photographs had come with a list of names but they were all out of order so Kiernan was forced to look through photograph after photograph to find what he needed. He'd seen both Miranda and Adam Ryan's name on the list so they must be in the massive pile somewhere. He had the photographs spread out in front of him and was carefully going through them. There were hundreds and Kiernan, having had to use his own money, had only managed to get small prints made. He flipped through picture after picture, finding nothing until he came to the second box of prints.

In the picture, a couple was standing with Miranda, who had her arm around a man… Adam Pierson. The long face was unmistakable. Kiernan dug out the papers that had come with the negatives. He flipped the picture onto its back and located the number. He scanned the list.

_Doctor Evelyn Ryan (surgical resident) with husband Adam Ryan, and Doctor Jacob Silverstein (surgical resident) with wife Jessica Silverstein. _

Kiernan sat back against the booth. The more he uncovered the more confused he became. Miranda had gone by the immortal alias of Chen Mao-Lin for over two millennia but it was not who she was. She had assumed another woman's identity. Kiernan presumed that it was after she had taken the woman's head. Miranda was possibly thousands of years older than she led others to believe. She had also been married to Adam Pierson, an immortal who's history was cloaked in some Watcher oddity who was now involved with Duncan MacLeod. Kiernan felt he had too many pieces and not enough context. There was some greater piece or pieces that connected them all together but Kiernan had no idea what it was. What could they all want to cover up? Miranda was concealing her true identity. Was it possible that Pierson was as well?

Now there was a thought.

Chapter note: Some readers may notice a bit of a snafu here with Methos's personal timeline. In Highlander canon, from the mid-eighties to the mid-nineties, Methos was masquerading as Adam Pierson - studying ancient languages at Oxford where he was recruited into the Watchers. In my universe, at that time, he also reconnected with Miranda, his ex-wife who had just left Torchwood after the death of Sarah Trowbridge and her killing Samuel Aubrey. The two of them remarry, move to NY, and their marriage ends with MacLeod and Methos's indiscretion around the mid-nineties before the deaths of the Horsemen. Now this is where my snafu comes in. I didn't realise that the Watchers would likely never sanction a relationship or marriage between someone from their research department and a known immortal so my current explanation requires a change of Highlander canon - that Methos voluntarily left the Watchers to resume his relationship with Miranda and his immortality was discovered by the Watchers when he and MacLeod dispatched the Horsemen, not when he was shot in the whole thing with James Horton. The Watchers freaked and clamped his chronicle down so that none of their agents would realise that the greatest Watcher fear had been realized - they were infiltrated. This also started some major internal Watcher overhaul. Sorry, I know it's all a little flimsy :(


	21. Chapter 21

It took nearly another week for Hastings to make contact with Ianto again. The other man had cornered Ianto on the way home from work in the tube station by his job. Ianto had to roll his eyes at the repeat performance.

"Afternoon, Jones," Hastings said, pushing the barrel of the gun into Ianto's back from his coat pocket.

"What do you want, Lance?" Ianto snapped.

"Let's go, outside. Hail a taxi," Hastings said, digging the gun into Ianto's back again.

"You owe me five quid," Ianto said sarcastically as he left the tube station. He put his fingers into his mouth and blew, whistling loudly. "TAXI!"

"Don't worry, Jones, the taxi's on me," Hastings said with a smile. "You first."

After Ianto settled into the taxi next to Hastings, the other man said, "Trafalgar Square."

Ianto tried not to show surprise at the destination. Trafalgar Square was a busy London tourist spot. It wasn't the place to conduct a covert meeting of any sort. Hastings was good on his word, after paying the driver, he led Ianto past the National Gallery and towards St. Martin in the Fields church on the north eastern corner of the square. Ianto's confusion deepened at the choice. Once they were near the church steps and out of earshot of anyone else, Ianto turned to Hastings.

"I don't have any of the tech with me," Ianto insisted.

"Not a problem, Jones," Hastings said, pushing Ianto towards the church entrance.

"Why a church?" Ianto asked.

"It's just a place," Hastings said, though Ianto could tell the choice baffled him as well.

Just as Ianto reached for the door handle, he felt a pressure form between his temples. His head snapped up and he looked around. He saw Duncan MacLeod leaning on a lamp post but so far away that it couldn't be him Ianto was sensing. Fear pooled in his gut and his hands grew cold and clammy. The choice of meeting place now made sense.

_It's holy ground…_ he said to himself. Steeling his nerves, Ianto entered the church. There were three men inside. There were two thick looking men seated at the pews and Carl Brogen, who was lighting a candle. The man had his head bowed as if in prayer. Somehow Ianto instinctively knew the immortal presence he sensed was from Brogen. He couldn't identify how, but the moment his eyes settled on Brogen's back, he just simply knew.

"Well, well, well," Brogen said, not turning around. "Ianto Jones." Brogen jerked his head and after exchanging some odd looks, the two mercenaries left along with Hastings. Brogen and Ianto were alone in the church.

"Looks like things have changed a lot for you," Brogen said walking away from the candles to stand between the front pews. His hands were in his coat pockets.

Ianto stuck his chin out in a defiant gesture. "It's a recent development."

"So, it wasn't the battle then?" Brogen asked.

"No," Ianto said simply. "Is this why we're meeting here?"

"The house of God isn't good enough for Ianto Jones? You really are new aren't you? One never knows," Brogen sneered and then laughed. "You being one of us makes this oh so much simpler."

Ianto nodded and decided to make a threat even though he was unarmed. He reached his hand into his coat, pretending to grasp at a nonexistent blade. "Are we taking this discussion off holy ground then?"

Brogen laughed again and shook his head. "This is business, Jones. Not pleasure. I need what's inside that head of yours."

"Information or my quickening?" Ianto snapped.

"You're a fledgling. Your quickening is insignificant. I'm talking about that acclaimed memory of yours," Brogen said. He moved into the second row of pews and stood on them so he could sit on the back of the pew behind him, facing Ianto.

"Your point?" Ianto asked, a little irritated at the lack of decorum inside the church's walls.

"Profit, Jones. You probably remember plenty about all the tech that went through Three. You're Three's archivist."

"I _was_ Three's archivist," Ianto said.

"Bollocks. Clever boy like you? There are Torchwood holding facilities all over the UK and I'm sure it's all tied up nice and neat in that brain of yours," Brogen said, tapping his temple.

"And what do I get out of it?" Ianto asked.

"Well for starters," Brogen said, drawing his blade, "you get to keep your head."

He put the point of the blade forward, resting it between his feet so that the point dug into the wood of the pew. He spun the blade in place and then leaned forward with both hands on the crossguard.

"Second? Money. You're young Jones but you'll realise just the way we all do. Those mortals out there?" He waved towards the door. "They're nothing. Pawns on a board. Their lives? Pointless and pathetic. We may as well scoop up what we can, while we can and enjoy ourselves."

"I'll think about it," Ianto said, reminded strongly of Captain John Hart.

"That's so cute," Brogen said as he laughed and raised his blade, pointing it at Ianto. "I'm not giving you a choice here, Jones."

"Holy ground, Brogen!" Ianto snapped.

"Oh, you are the goody two shoes," Brogen sneered. He dropped the blade onto the pew with a thunderous clatter that echoed through the whole church. He reached into his jacket and pulled a gun. He turned the gun over in his hands and said, "Fine. You scratch my back and I… won't shoot your woman in the head."

Ianto saw red. "You lay a fucking finger on her, Brogen, I swear to God-"

"Oh such language in a church," Brogen said with a dramatic shiver. He looked around in mock terror, as if lightning were about to strike, and then he shouted at the rafters, "We are in the perfect place for you to make promises to the All Mighty!"

Brogen turned and genuflected in front of the altar with a dramatic flourish, waving the gun around then he turned back to Ianto, waggling his crotch in his direction. "I wasn't planning on using my finger for the fucking."

Brogen laughed and turned back to the altar, his arms stretched wide. "'If a man also lies with a man, as he lies with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them.' Perhaps God will strike you down as a sodomite rather than a blasphemer," he said, then turned his head to sneer at Ianto over his shoulder.

Ianto stifled the rage that welled up in his chest. He wasn't going to let Brogen bait him. _Christ, he's insane_…

"Two million in sterling or its equivalent in Euro," Ianto snapped, summoning some bravado. "Two of Torchwood Three's outside storage units and all their contents."

"Done. Stick with sterling shall we? Queen and country, eh Jones?" Brogen turned from the altar and holstered his gun. He slid his hand down to grab at his crotch. "Or would you like to double that offer and include that woman of yours in the deal?"

Ianto snarled and took a few quick steps towards Brogen who laughed and leapt up onto the pew, darting to the end of it.

"Nuh uh uh!" he shouted, wagging his finger at Ianto. He clicked his tongue. "Tsk tsk, holy ground and all that. You said so yourself."

"You leave her out of this, Brogen," Ianto yelled.

"Oh, not privy to the secret, eh, Jones?" Brogen sneered. "Cooperate and not a hair on her head will be harmed."

"I need time," Ianto said. "I have to gain access to Three's databases."

"Clever boy," he answered. "I'm a patient man. 'For as Jonah was three days and three nights in the whale's belly; so shall the son of man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth.'"

Ianto suppressed an eye roll. "Where?"

"'And he gathered them together into a place called in the Hebrew tongue Armageddon,'" Brogen said with a sneer.

After he nodded, Ianto turned and started for the door. _Three days from now… at Canary Wharf. _

Brogen shouted, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "The Lord be with you! Bow your head and pray for God's blessing!"

Ianto kept walking. If he'd turned, he would have seen Brogen blessing him as he left. "May almighty God bless you, the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit! This Mass has ended, go in peace!"

Ianto ignored him and continued through the front door. His heart was pounding in his chest and his hands were cold and clammy. He looked around for Duncan but didn't see him. He caught a cab back to the flat. The minute he was inside, he bolted into the loo, slamming the door behind him not caring that someone was watching him on the cameras. He collapsed onto the tile, his arms and legs shaking, the adrenaline fading from his system. The encounter with Brogen had shaken Ianto to the core.

Up until this point, the only immortals Ianto had encountered were Miranda and her friends who weren't an immediate or direct threat to him. This was the first time he'd run into another immortal that was threatening his life. Torchwood and Miranda had insulated him. He had looked on his immortality as a new opportunity. It was more time with Jack. It was a chance to help his teammates, to save them by allowing him to throw himself between them and harm's way as Miranda and Jack had done countless times. He listened to Miranda's lessons. He learned the sword but viewed the threat of other immortals in the abstract. His encounter with Brogen had brought that threat into the foreground.

Brogen could have killed him easily. Ianto had only a few weeks of sword training under his belt. Miranda said he was making excellent progress but Ianto knew he was incapable of defending himself against any challenger no matter how bumbling a swordsman they were. Once his hands had stopped trembling, Ianto took out his mobile and sent a quick text to Miranda. It was an old code that they had agreed upon.

_I'm home. I have a migraine._

Ianto stayed in the loo, sitting on the cold tile floor waiting for Miranda. He felt like a boy again, hiding in the washroom while his parents had shouted at each other. He resisted the urge to get his sword out of the cupboard. Over half an hour passed and Ianto sighed. He hadn't expected Miranda to be able to get away from work. Suddenly, a pressure formed between his temples and fear twisted his gut. In the weeks since they came to London, Ianto hadn't felt fear when he'd sensed a presence. But he had been making the error that who he was sensing was always Miranda returning home from work. He could no longer be so deluded. He stood up, bracing himself for an attack but Miranda's voice was the next thing he heard.

"Ifan?" she called out.

Relief washed over him as he opened the door and stepped out. She was standing in the middle of the room and he rushed to her, throwing his arms around her.

"You're all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine. Are you all right?" she asked, hugging him back. There was a paper bag in her hands from the chemist. "I brought some medicine."

"Just needed to see you, c'mon, my head's better. I think I need some air," he said, trying to keep his voice as calm and even as possible.

Ianto walked with her from the flat, grabbing their coats and his own blade from the hallway cupboard as they left. Once they were outside, on the street, he started walking in a random direction, slinging the cylindrical case across his torso. Miranda slipped her hand into her purse, activating the noise killing phone.

"What is going on, Ifan?" she demanded. "Who was it?"

"Carl Brogen is an immortal," he said tightly.

"WHAT?!" she roared, stopping in her tracks.

Ianto grabbed her by the arm, tugging her along. "We're being watched. Keep moving."

Miranda reluctantly started to walk. "What happened?" she hissed.

Ianto quickly summarised the meeting and Brogen's threats.

"Only a fucking matter of time before this all went pear shaped," Miranda said.

"We need to tell Jack," Ianto said.

"Jack will rush in, guns blazing to put a stop to this as soon as possible. We need to continue with the plan."

"This changes everything, Mandy. It's an important piece of information. We have to tell him!" Ianto insisted.

"Give me a few minutes, Ifan. I need to think," she said, slipping her arm into Ianto's.

The two turned the corner, walking towards the river. Miranda stayed silent, considering. Her first priority should have been the mission but all she could think of was Ianto's safety and she couldn't make a proper decision there without knowing more about Brogen. She'd need to make her own inquiries about him. When they reached the river, the two of them continued to walk, slowly, pretending to take in the scenery.

"You said he considered you a fledgling?" Miranda asked.

"Yes, he said my quickening wasn't worth it. I knew him at One, that was only a few years ago."

Miranda nodded. When Brogen encountered Ianto at Torchwood One, he would have known, at most, that Ianto was only a pre-born. The change in the intensity of Ianto's presence would have given Brogen a time frame for Ianto's first death.

"He's old enough to understand quality over quantity," Miranda said, mostly to herself.

"He's unstable as well," Ianto said. "You should have seen the mad way he was behaving."

"Get used to it," Miranda said. "Immortality and sanity do not necessarily go hand in hand. We need to consider your safety, Ifan. You said he didn't know about me?"

Ianto shook his head. "No, he threatened your head with a gun, not his sword."

"We need to keep him ignorant. I need to make some discrete inquiries about him, find out everything about Carl Brogen the immortal that I can."

"I don't know if it's safe for us to contact Kiernan," Ianto said looking around a little to see if he could see his fellow Welshman.

Miranda shook her head. "Not Kiernan. He can't give me that sort of information nor would I let him. The penalty for that level of interference is death."

"You seemed keen enough to kill him before," Ianto snapped.

"That was different, Ifan. That was Kiernan threatening my safety," she said.

"Do you really think the Watchers would kill him?" Ianto asked.

"Yes, they've had serious incidents," Miranda said. "I have my own avenues of inquiry. After I have my intelligence, we will tell Jack. Until then, I'm going to arrange with Duncan for you to meet with him every few days for sword training."

"We don't have time for that," Ianto whinged.

"Make time!" she snapped. "It will be good for him to think Duncan is your teacher. You should become friendly with the Highlander in any case. He is to step in as your teacher should anything happen to me."

"Nothing is going to happen to you, Mandy," Ianto said, automatically.

"That is a foolish notion. We all die it is usually a question of how and when. For us? We know the how. The only question that remains is the when. The headman's axe is raised over all our necks, Ifan. It's just a matter of when it will fall," she said sternly.

She looked over her Ianto's shoulder and saw Methos fiddling with his mobile phone. "Head back to the flat and stay there. I need to speak with Methos. I'll pick up dinner."

"Not curry again, please?" Ianto asked. It was Miranda's favourite and it was the only take-away they'd had since coming to London.

"Chinese?" she asked and he nodded. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek before walking away, towards the flat.

Ianto went back to the flat, locking himself inside. Again, he resisted the urge to take out his sword, instead stowing it in the cupboard. He took out some plates and utensils for dinner and waited for Miranda to return. He used the time to do some hard thinking.

Miranda was constantly trying to teach him lessons and educate him about the Game. He'd listened and taken her lessons to heart but he had always filed those lessons into the back of his mind. Unconsciously, he'd been reacting to his new immortality with denial. When this case had began, it was the perfect excuse to cast aside the Game. He'd told himself over and over again that there was nothing wrong with suspending his sword training. He'd assured himself that once this case was settled then he could afford himself the time and energy to focus on his new immortality. He'd been a fool.

She took longer than Ianto expected, and the Welshman felt the presence of another immortal in his head nearly an hour after he'd gotten back to the flat but instead of hearing the key in the door, the bell rang. Ianto took his sword out of the cupboard, and standing beside the door, he looked through the peephole. It was Duncan MacLeod.

"Duncan," Ianto said as he opened the door.

The Highlander smiled at him warmly. "Can I come in?"

Ianto looked at his fellow Celt for a moment and then nodded, standing aside for him. Ianto immediately dug a pack of cigarettes out of his coat and headed for the balcony.

"Do you mind?" he asked.

Duncan shook his head and followed Ianto out onto the balcony.

"Sorry, it's not safe to talk in there," Ianto said lighting the cigarette and offering the pack to Duncan who politely refused.

"I figured. I don't know what you and Mao-Lin are involved in but whatever it is, it's dangerous," Duncan said, sitting down on the plastic chair.

"Brogen being one of us complicates everything. This undercover sting was difficult already," Ianto said with a sigh. "What has she told you?"

"No details, just that you and her were coming to London and that you needed Methos and I watching your backs. I figured something was up when you met someone at a church. I know some people. I can do some digging. You said his name was Brogen?" Duncan asked.

Ianto nodded. "He's currently going by the name of Carl Brogen. He was an employee of Daily Mail and before that he worked for The Torchwood Institute."

Duncan tilted his head and nodded at the cigarette. "That's not the best habit to form."

"It's not going to kill me and it's an excuse to get onto the balcony which is the only safe place to talk," Ianto said taking a long drag off the cigarette. "These people, they think that Mandy's mortal and we need them to keep thinking that. She wants me to train with you."

Duncan nodded. "She spoke to me after we met at the mosque in Cardiff. She said she wanted me to take over your training or possibly supplement it at some point in the future."

"No, you misunderstand, Brogen knows I'm immortal. She wants me to start training again," Ianto said.

Duncan's eyes went wide. _Has Mao-Lin lost her mind?!_ "You haven't trained since you got to London?"

Ianto shook his head. "We needed to keep to our cover story."

"We should meet twice a week but more would be better. There's an abandoned warehouse in south east London," Duncan said producing a small card from his pocket.

"Don't hand that to me, tell me the address and I'll remember," Ianto said before Duncan could hand him the paper for the cameras to see. "I need to make it look as if we've been doing this all along."

Duncan nodded, rattling off the address. "Mao-Lin says you have a lot of potential. You have a sword already?"

"Yes, a gift from Mandy," Ianto said.

"Tomorrow afternoon then?" Duncan said, getting to his feet.

Ianto nodded. "I get off work after two."

Duncan gave him a tight smile and nodded. "She loves you. You should consider yourself lucky. Mao-Lin takes her role as teacher very seriously. She's only taken on a handful of students. She's one of the best."

"She said the same of you."

The Highlander shrugged. "I get by."

"Somehow, I doubt that," Ianto said, looking at the muscular physique of the other immortal. "I appreciate this, Duncan."

"I owe her," Duncan said simply.

Ianto wondered if the Highlander was referring to his indiscretion with Miranda's now ex-husband or some other incident. He decided not to ask.

"Will you and Adam be staying in the UK long?" he asked instead.

Duncan shook his head. "We were planning on going back to Paris."

"Can I persuade you and Adam to return to Cardiff for a day or two when all this is over? I'd like to thank you both for all you've done. Perhaps dinner with Jack and I?"

"Jack?" Duncan asked, confused.

"My partner," Ianto said.

Duncan's confusion changed to surprise. "I thought you and Mao-Lin… I'm sorry I just assumed…"

"We're just friends. Our romantic involvement right now is just a ruse for the cameras," Ianto said, glancing into the lounge.

"Quite an act. I sure as hell fell for it," Duncan said with a slight chuckle. "So did Methos."

Ianto smiled. If they had fooled Duncan and Methos then it was highly likely that Brogen and Hastings were fooled as well.

"She should be back shortly with some take away. Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"No thanks, I should be getting back to Methos. God knows what sort of trouble he's getting himself into," Duncan said with a shake of his head.

"A worry I have with Jack as well," Ianto said with a roll of his eyes and Duncan chuckled at him.

Ianto showed Duncan out and went back into the flat to wait for Miranda. He was sitting on the sofa, his bare feet up on the coffee table when she finally came home, a big bag of Chinese take away in her hands.

The two went about their ruse through dinner, Miranda making concerned medical inquiries about Ianto's 'migraine'. After they ate, they stepped out onto the balcony, as usual under the guise of smoking.

"Duncan says he'll meet with me twice a week starting tomorrow. He's also going to look into Brogen," Ianto said quietly.

Miranda nodded. "I spoke with Methos this afternoon. It shouldn't take the two of them long to get the information we need. Joe Dawson is well connected."

"How much do you think this changes things?" Ianto asked.

"Not much in terms of the plan itself," she said, tossing her cigarette over the railing. "We can't turn Brogen over to UNIT, though. An immortal can never be held in UNIT custody."

"I thought you said there's no discernible difference between us and mortals," Ianto said, taking a small drag off of his cigarette.

"Nothing we can medically detect now, but eventually UNIT will realise their prisoner isn't aging," Miranda said as she zipped up her jumper. "Brogen will have to be killed."

Ianto nodded. He'd gone over it himself in his head a few times and it was the only conclusion he came to as well. "It's going to cause a mess with UNIT."

"I know," she said. "I think the simplest thing would be to kill him temporarily, take possession of the body and then kill him permanently elsewhere."

"Agreed," Ianto said, rubbing at his forehead. "I'm sorry, by the way."

"By the Gods, for what Ifan?" she asked.

"For not taking things as seriously as I should have," he said.

Miranda raised an eyebrow at him. She never thought Ianto neglectful, a bit in denial on occasion but never neglectful. The encounter with Brogen must have really shaken him up. "There's nothing to apologise for, Ifan. Entering the Game is a big adjustment. I have never thought you neglectful. You've taken your lessons seriously."

"I was. I am," he said. "I just could have shown more due diligence."

"You need to find the correct balance for you between living your life and keeping your head," she said. "The proper due diligence to ensure that you live to the Gathering would be to seclude yourself on holy ground and never emerge."

"Not an appealing idea," he said with a wry smile.

"Exactly. Now, come to bed. You'll need your rest if you're going to be sparring with the Highlander," she said and then smirked. "If you think I'm a taskmaster wait until you've had a lesson or two with Duncan MacLeod."

Miranda chucked a little at the nervous look that flashed across Ianto's face. Once the two of them were settled into bed, Miranda rolled, draping herself around Ianto's body. She slid her hand under the blanket, teasing the elastic of his pyjama bottoms, edging her fingertips underneath it. Ianto didn't miss the invitation. He tugged at her arms, pulling her so she was on top of him, straddling his hips and kissed her deeply.

They hadn't made love since that first disastrous attempt and Ianto was determined to make this time different. He managed to forget the cameras watching them this time and he lost himself in her. He focused only on the giving and receiving of pleasure as she moved on top of him. This time, his world narrowed to nothing more than the feel of her, the smell and taste of her skin. For that brief time, it all had melted away and there was only the two of them.

He felt a little guilty, afterwards, laying sated with her in his arms. His mind turned to Jack. It was usually Jack's body he lost himself in, using their love to forget the outside world for a time when his heart was heavy or his mind overwhelmed. Sex with Miranda was certainly no chore. She was a responsive and skilled lover but he missed Jack. Miranda had seemed far happier in their feigned domesticity than he was and Ianto knew it was because the immortal woman was lonely.

When Miranda and Nora had broken up, Ianto had seen its effect on her. Instead of seeking the comfort of her friendships with Jack or him or any of the other members of the team, she had retreated. She'd thrown herself into her work and filled nearly every free moment with sword practice and exercise. Eventually, she'd stopped but it had taken months. It had been nearly an entire year before she was back to normal. Even though this romance was feigned, Ianto could tell that Miranda was responding to the closeness and the contact and Ianto was afraid the immortal woman would retreat again after the case was done. He'd talk to Jack when all this was over. There had to be something they could do to keep their friend from despairing.


	22. Chapter 22

Miranda was walking into the small cafe by the hospital. She didn't have much time. It was her lunch break but she inevitably got called into the A&E for something. She was still wearing her lab coat and scrubs. She hadn't felt an immortal presence when she'd entered the cafe. Frustrated and annoyed, she turned to leave. She didn't have time for this. The moment she took her first step back towards the door, the presence of an immortal flared in her head. The sharp pressure dulled and a few seconds later, the cafe door opened. Methos cast her a bright smile. He gave her an old fashioned sort of low bow, waving his arm forward with a flourish.

"Ah, my darling, lovely to see you," he said.

"Really, Adam, the dramatics," she said, shaking her head.

The two immortals sat down at a table and ordered a small lunch. Miranda had activated the noise killing phone in her pocket. She saw the mercenary that had been following her outside the cafe window. Kiernan was inside. Once in a while, the Watcher would throw a glance in their direction. Their food arrived and Methos began to eat with gusto.

He handed a tablet over to her. "You need to read that here. I have to get it back to Joe."

Miranda, grateful she was seated in such a way that Kiernan couldn't see the tablet, ignored her food and started to read. It was Carl Brogen's chronicle. "Goddess below, I don't want to know how you got this."

"Joe still has friends on the Tribunal," Methos said, around his food. "Sections with an olive background are from actual Watcher accounts. The sepia sections are extrapolated from the research department or other chronicles."

She scanned the document quickly. Brogen's mortal history had the sepia background. The olive sections didn't appear until later. The Watchers believed Brogen to be Karl de Brugge, a Catholic priest who travelled from Germany to the Americas as a missionary. Brogen surfaced as an immortal in the plains of America. The Watchers believed he had met his first death at the hands of Native Americans sometime in the late-eighteenth century when a man was found bloodied but uninjured, wandering in the wilderness. Miranda glanced over random information that wasn't pertinent. Brogen's head count was estimated at only at a dozen or so, a low number for an immortal his age. His chronicle painted a picture of a priest who had lost his faith and was now drifting through life and the Game, slowly being driven mad by the passage of time. It seems that over the past hundred and fifty or so years, Brogen had given himself over to excesses, enjoying the materialistic things in life. The crash in twenty nine had hit Brogen hard, leaving him completely destitute. He'd been trying to recover ever since, making disastrous investment after disastrous investment. While the man certainly wasn't starving, he had no where near the amount of wealth he had once become accustomed to. Miranda resisted opening the reports dealing with the last head that Brogen had taken, she was toeing a line already. She pressed the button on top of the tablet, locking it and handing it back to Methos.

"Thank you," she said and started to eat her own sandwich.

Methos nodded in reply as he chewed on his food, stowing the tablet in his rucksack. He wiped his mouth and tilted his head.

"So tell me about this delectable Welshman of yours. Why have you taken him on as student? Ianto Jones is just your type, my darling. He's quite the thoroughbred, a fine specimen of Welsh breeding - handsome, intelligent…" Methos's grin twisted a bit, "…virile… much like myself."

Miranda rolled her eyes at him. "You know I don't sleep with my students."

"As if I would think less of you if you made an exception for a majestic stallion like Ianto Jones," he pointed out, sipping his tea. "You are sharing his bed."

"A ruse, nothing more," she said dismissively, "and that best not be jealousy I hear in your voice."

"It wasn't," he said then pointed at her with one of his chips. "You still haven't answered my question. You don't select your students lightly though why you taught the Tudor bastard is beyond me."

"You have always underestimated the Duke," Miranda scolded. She rolled her eyes at Methos and then stole a chip off of his plate. "Ifan doesn't remind me of anyone."

Methos laughed aloud, thinking she was making some joke, but stopped abruptly when he saw the look on her face. "You're serious. He doesn't remind you of anyone. No one at all?"

She shook her head.

"Now I'm doubly surprised you're not astride him every night," Methos said.

"He isn't mine," she said, rolling her eyes again and then stole a chip off of his plate.

"You're in love with him," he said, pointing at her with another chip, a mischievous grin on his face.

"I'm not in love with Ianto Jones," she said with an eye roll. "All right, maybe a little. I'm more in love with the idea of him. The man reminds me of no one I have ever met. He's remarkable. I didn't think someone like him existed. He sees people for who they are and neither expects nor wants change."

"That is a treasure you are being most careless with," Methos warned. He waved his hand around randomly and said, "You are being reckless."

Suddenly, she felt angry. She wiped her mouth and then her hands on the paper napkin and snapped, "What do you care?"

"You wound me, my darling," he said. Usually, he said the phrase dramatically, teasing Miranda with flare. This time, he said it seriously. She'd genuinely hurt him and she immediately saw it.

Miranda reached for his hand. The two had known each other for so long that a silent conversation of expressions and looks was all it took for them to exchange apologies. He gave her hand one last squeeze before letting it go, acutely aware they were being watched.

"You think I wanted to change you?" he joked.

"We are not having this conversation," she said as she rolled her eyes and stole another chip off his plate.

Miranda's pager went off. He raised his eyebrows at the ancient curse she uttered.

"Such profanity," he said with a chuckle.

She started to dig her wallet out of her back pocket but he waved her off.

"I've got it. Go," he said.

After a kiss on the cheek, she left the cafe with a smile and a wave. Just as she was leaving, Ianto Jones was walking into an abandoned warehouse in the south east of London. He felt the pressure in his head the minute he opened the warehouse door. He held his sword high, not wanting to assume the presence he felt was Duncan. No sooner had he taken two steps into the warehouse then Duncan attacked him, swinging at him with his own kitana. Ianto parried the blow, but barely, and then scrambled backwards, trying to put some distance between himself and the Highlander.

Duncan lunged again, swinging downward with his sword. Ianto raised his own blade, blocking the blow and cuffing the other immortal in the jaw with his free hand. As Duncan stumbled backwards, Ianto kicked some of the dirt up towards Duncan's face but the Highlander brought his arm up in time to shield his eyes. Duncan circled and then attacked again, this time swinging laterally at Ianto's left side. Ianto twisted, trying to block the blow but it was at a poor angle for him and Duncan's blade skidded along the edge of his. The Highlander brought his leg up, kicking Ianto's sword arm at the wrist. The placement of the blow was perfect and Ianto felt his hand go numb. His longsword fell from his grip and Duncan swung, arcing the blade towards Ianto's neck, stopping it bare millimetres from his skin. With a smile, Duncan stepped back, lowering the sword.

"Good," Duncan said brightly.

"How is that good? You nearly took my head off!" Ianto said as he brought his hand up to rub at his neck, nervously. Even that small bout was enough to leave Ianto out of breath and put a burn into his muscles. The Highlander was unbelievably strong and Ianto had learned enough to know that he was exceptionally skilled.

"You lasted more than a few seconds," Duncan said with a shrug. "Mao-Lin's taught you a lot."

"She's got me in the bloody gym every day," Ianto said. He tilted his sword, examining the edge for damage.

"I can see her influence but she fights differently than you should. You're taller than she is. You have a longer reach," Duncan said. "She's a woman."

"Bit sexist that," Ianto joked.

Duncan smiled. "Women may not have our strength but they're more agile, more flexible. Mao-Lin relies a lot on her speed."

Ianto turned away from Duncan, walking a defendable distance away from the other immortal. He turned and saluted the Highlander with his sword and asked, "Suggestions?"

Duncan smiled, returned the salute and the two set to work. He found Ianto an able student and a fast learner. He could already see improvement from when Ianto had arrived. He handed Ianto a bottle of water and a towel. Exhausted, Ianto sat down heavily on a wooden crate. He twisted the cap off a water bottle, downing most of it in a few long pulls and then poured the rest over his head. He wiped down his face with the towel and tried to catch his breath.

"Christ, Mandy was right about you," he said, his shoulders heaving.

"What do you mean?" Duncan asked.

"She said you were a worse taskmaster than her," Ianto said.

Duncan chuckled as he grabbed a bottle of water for himself. "How much philosophy is she making you read?"

Ianto laughed. "Sun Tzu, Augustine and Descartes."

"Wow, only three," Duncan said with a laugh of his own. "Wait until she starts in on the Greeks."

"Was she your teacher as well?" Ianto asked.

"No, but she's taught me a few things," Duncan said with a smile.

"How did you meet her?" he asked as he reached for another water bottle.

"We studied martial arts with the same teacher," Duncan answered. "Mao-Lin was right about you too. You have a lot of potential."

Ianto took long pulls off another water bottle. "Thank you for this."

"Don't thank me," Duncan said. "Like I said, I owe her."

"But you don't owe me," Ianto said, seriously.

"There's no debt here, Ianto," Duncan said, just as serious and then he smiled. "We Celts have to stick together after all."

Ianto chuckled and then sighed. "Brogen being one of us isn't something we expected."

"Methos is meeting her for lunch today. Joe snuck Brogen's chronicle out of the Watcher archives," Duncan said, twisting the cap off another bottle of water for himself.

"He's not putting himself in danger by doing that is he?" Ianto asked, genuinely concerned. "Mandy said the Watchers would kill Kiernan for providing her with information like that."

Duncan shook his head, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Joe knows people on the Tribunal. And Mao-Lin isn't using the information to advance her position in the Game, she's using it for whatever you people are doing with Torchwood."

"Did you read it?" Ianto asked as he packed away his sword.

Duncan nodded as he examined his own blade. "Yes. His real name is Karl de Brugge. He used to be a priest in the eighteen century."

"We're going to have to kill him. We can't hand him over to the authorities," Ianto said with regret.

"From what I've read, he's capable but no match for Mao-Lin," Duncan said. "She should have no trouble defeating him."

Ianto nodded and then, out of curiosity, asked, "What if I challenged him?"

Duncan raised his eyebrows at Ianto and gave him a skeptical look.

"That's not a good idea. You've got potential, Ianto, but you're not ready for that. I hope that's not what you're planning," Duncan warned.

"We haven't planned anything yet. Mandy wanted the intel on Brogen first," Ianto said scrubbing at his face.

"Don't be so eager to get on the scoreboard," Duncan said as he ran his whetstone across his blade.

"I'm not, trust me," Ianto said, waving his hands a bit and giving a nervous chuckle.

"You've never killed before have you?" Duncan asked.

"In the line of duty, in self defense," Ianto said. "That's what taking a head is isn't it? Self defense?"

"Most of the time," Duncan said, his tone strange. "What is it you people at Torchwood do? You're not police. You're not military. Some special branch of MI6?"

"Sorry, can't say," Ianto said with a shrug. He looked at his watch. "Can I interest you in a late lunch?"

Duncan nodded. "Sounds good."

After a friendly lunch with the Highlander, Ianto went to pick up some groceries. He'd found a recipe for lentil soup online that he had wanted to try. The book had been a favourite of his as a child. When he had lived in London, Lisa had done all of the cooking, proclaiming his skills insufficient. Ianto hadn't minded being relieved of the chore and showed no interest in learning. When he'd moved to Cardiff, he'd survived mostly on take away and frozen meals. Before he'd moved into the Hub, Jack would occasionally cook meals for the two of them. Ianto never understood what his lover found so enjoyable about it. It seemed like a tedious chore. Now that he was actually taking the time to learn, he was finding he enjoyed it and he was looking forward to sharing his newfound skills with Jack when he returned to the Hub. Ianto was already planning on changes to the Hub's kitchen to make it more like a real kitchen the two men could cook in together.

He set about a little light cleaning once he'd gotten back to the flat and then set to cooking. He had seen Miranda plow through the preparation stages but Ianto wasn't there yet and he liked to take his time. He was constantly mindful of the cameras watching him and the more normal and natural he and Miranda acted the better. Ianto found the cooking soothing and helped him forget he was being watched.

He dipped his spoon into the hot soup, blowing gently to cool it. He put the spoon in his mouth and then added more salt. When he looked up at the clock, he saw that Miranda was late. It wasn't unusual, Miranda usually arrived late as she never left the hospital when her shift was supposed to end but such was the life of a doctor. Ianto felt the tension in his shoulders increasing as he saw seven o'clock approach. It was nearly time for their two person show and it always made Ianto a little tense. It was nearly an hour past when she usually arrived when Ianto felt the sharp pressure behind his eyes and, a few moments later, heard her key in the lock. He still watched her come through the door, the chopping knife in his hand, as a precaution.

She threw him a bright smile as she relocked the door and said, "Smells wonderful, Ifan."

"It's a work in progress," he said, stirring the soup. "You're later than usual."

Miranda nodded as she took off her coat and hung it in the cupboard. "I wish I could say it was something exciting but I got buried in paperwork."

Ianto chuckled a little and then gave her wrist a slight slap as she reached for his spoon. "Wait."

She gave him a mock expression of hurt and then turned away from him so she could lay the table. Ianto reached out and tugged her back for the small kiss. You'd think it would be second nature by now but they were both occasionally forgetting.

"Tuck in, love," he said, remembering to add the endearment. Oddly enough, the two had come up with pet names they could stand before they left Cardiff, not wanting to come up with something on the fly that one or the other hated.

He tore a hunk of bread of the loaf and handed it to her. She dunked the bread into the soup and took a tentative bite. Some of Ianto's cooking was quite brilliant while other attempts were positively inedible. She'd learned to be cautious. This was his best attempt yet.

"Oh this is delicious! Ja-" she cut what she was about to say off. She'd nearly told him he'd have to make it for Jack. "Jaime Oliver you're turning into."

"Thanks," he smiled at her, tucking into his own food.

"So how was your day? Busy?" she asked.

The random small talk over their food continued, Miranda getting up for a second helping. It was their usual routine. They played the happy normal couple until after dinner when the two of them would move outside to the balcony under the guise of smoking so they could discuss the case and escape the camera's eye for a bit. Being able to speak freely was an enormous relief in and of itself. Miranda lit her cigarette and closed her eyes as she inhaled, the tension draining from her face.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take," she said, leaning her hand against her forehead.

"I know what you mean," Ianto agreed.

The two sat in silence for a bit, trying to decompress.

"What did you learn from Adam?" Ianto asked.

"Dawson must have some friends in high places," she said, stretching out her legs. "I saw Carl Brogen's chronicle."

"Duncan told me he knows people on the Tribunal, whatever that is. You said the Watchers would kill Kiernan for doing something like that," Ianto said.

Miranda nodded. "There have been instances of Watchers acting in collusion with immortals in the past. They take interference very seriously now. The fact that I am friendly with Kiernan is carefully watched by his superiors. I don't know much about the inner workings of their organisation but 'the Tribunal' sounds like it's some sort of governing body. If you're curious you should ask Adam. He infiltrated the Watchers for a time."

"You're taking the piss!" Ianto said with a half laugh.

"No," she said with a wry smile. "He worked in the research department… on his own chronicle."

Ianto couldn't help but bark out a laugh at that.

"You should be wary of him, Ifan. My husband is a cunning man," she said, taking a long drag off her cigarette.

"You trust him," he pointed out.

"To an extent, yes," she said. "You should always be cautious when you form friendships and engage in love affairs with other immortals of the Game. Some of us use such trusts to deceive and you never know when necessity may require someone you care for to be on the receiving end of your blade."

Ianto remembered her clear threat, that if he broke the rules she would kill him. He asked softly, "Who was it?"

"No one…" she said, her voice serious, "and I hope I never have to. Like I've told you already, Ifan. You're my student. Obey the rules and you're safe from me… until the Gathering."

He didn't have to ask what would happen then. Could he do it? Could he kill her? He wondered if he could ever be skilled enough to defeat her and then a dark thought popped into his head. Would she teach him enough so he could defeat her? Or would she always hold something back? He shook off the thought and honestly didn't want to know the answer. He decided to change the subject back to the matter at hand.

"There was nothing useful in Brogen's chronicle?"

She shook her head as she took another drag from the cigarette. "Not really. He's fairly young and hasn't taken many heads. I don't think we need to worry about him in terms of the Game. I don't think we need to change the plan much either. Instead of arresting Brogen and turning him over to UNIT, we tell them he was killed."

"You challenge him…" Ianto said.

"And Bob's your uncle," she said with a nod. "Do you think he's taken the bait?"

Ianto nodded. "I think he's going to ask for more. I don't think he's going to be satisfied with just a few pieces of tech or the storage units. We still need to tell Jack about Brogen."

"I know. I wanted to be certain he wasn't a threat as an immortal first," she said.

"I don't know how to code this in the e-mails I've been sending to Fish," Ianto said with a slight frown.

"I'm going to ask Adam to go to Cardiff tomorrow. He can relay intelligence without having to know much," she paused and held up her hand to stop the protest she already saw forming on his lips. "It's too great a risk for one of us to do it and Adam doesn't have to know about the mission to hand Jack a flash drive. The key will be getting Jack to stay calm and not act rashly. He'll want to pull us out and take down Hastings and Brogen immediately."

Ianto sighed. They had gone through so much trouble and effort planning and executing this undercover operation. Jack was used to dealing with the immortal threats to Miranda and his reaction was always the same - gross overprotectiveness. Threats to his lover? Ianto could only imagine how he'd react. Threats to Miranda and Ianto? He tried to suppress a groan and failed.


	23. Chapter 23

For the second day in a row, Miranda ducked out of the A&E and into the small cafe across from the hospital entrance. This time it was for breakfast and she felt an immortal presence the moment she opened the door. Methos waved at her, already seated. She weaved through the other tables and sat down across from him. She didn't see Kiernan this time.

"I ordered you a fry up. The bubble and squeak here is fantastic," he said.

She didn't have long. She'd arrived on time for her shift at six and had begged the overnight doctor to stay late and cover the first two hours of her shift… and to borrow his laptop. He'd agreed but at a steep price. She would be covering his entire overnight shift next week, pulling a double. She'd spent more time than she'd thought cobbling together a report and letter to Jack on her colleague's laptop. She'd downloaded it to a stick drive and had made her way across the road to the cafe.

"Thanks," she said as she fixed her coffee.

"Two meals with you in two days," he said, sipping his tea. "I'm trying to decide if this is a rare privilege or an ill-fated omen."

"I need another favor," she said, getting straight to the point.

"Ill-fated omen it is then. This is quite a few favors, my darling," he said with a smug grin.

"And you are still well into the red," she quipped.

"You wound me, my darling," he said, dramatically clapping his hand to his chest and nearly spilling his tea.

"Yes or no," she said, impatiently glancing at her watch.

He rolled his eyes. "Of course, yes."

"I need you to go to Cardiff. This information needs to get back to the rest of my team but I can't risk it," she said, sliding him a tenner with a USB drive hidden inside.

"It would leave you vulnerable," Methos warned, accepting the money.

"It's barely gone eight. Cardiff isn't far. If you take the next train or drive, you can be back before I leave work," she pointed out.

"Where am I going?" he asked.

"Take the train to Cardif Central Station and go down to Roald Dahl Plass. There's a ramp that leads down to the water. There's a Tourist Office there. Break in. Behind the counter, there's a camera. Get someone's attention and then ask to speak to Jack Harkness. He'll refer to me as 'Will'."

"Jack _Harkness_? Is that your Mr. Jones's lover?" Methos asked. "That name sounds familiar…"

Miranda had invited Methos to her and Jack's wedding in 1920 but the other immortal had declined the invitation. At the time, he was living in America and the journey was simply too far back then. He had sent his well wishes, along with a gift - the silver picture frame that held Jack and Miranda's wedding photograph in her rooms back at the Hub. She prayed that Methos didn't make the connection. It would only further complicate matters.

"He's my boss and yes, also Ifan's partner," Miranda said. "Tell him that Brogen is an immortal but make sure that he knows I'm dealing with it. Everything he needs to know is on the drive."

"I could be anyone, but I'll give it a go," Methos said as he pocketed the note and the drive.

Miranda pulled the diamond and sapphire ring off of her finger and handed it to Methos. It was her and Jack's wedding band. "Give him this and if he thinks you killed me and stole it… say 'Santorini'."

"And if those things fail?" Methos asked, slipping the ring into his pocket.

"Well then, my sweet, you're fucked," she said with a smile.

The food arrived and Miranda ate in a record pace without another word to Methos. She said goodbye and wished him luck. Whenever she worked for Torchwood she got like this and Methos found it most unhealthy. She'd lost weight. She was always rushing about. She was taking unnecessary risks. Methos had to shake his head. Using the tenner that Miranda had passed him, he paid for their breakfast and headed for Paddington Station. The Cardiff bound trains left every half hour and he had just managed to sneak onto the nine fifteen train and he made it to Cardiff by lunch.

He took a taxi from Cardiff Central Station down to the Plass, just as Miranda had instructed. The small ramp down to the water took him a little longer to find. He stood outside the derelict Tourist Office blinking a few times and wondering if his ex-wife had suddenly developed a taste for practical jokes.

When he tried the door, he found it locked. A slight jiggle of the handle and a firm check from his shoulder and the door gave way, swinging open. He had to roll his eyes when he took in the interior, again wondering if this was some sort of poor joke. If this was Torchwood's front, no wonder it was the worst kept secret in the city. He'd never investigated or pried into Miranda's affairs surrounding the clandestine agency, but Methos had lived a long time. He'd heard the word Torchwood before, uttered as a curse or hushed whisper. He carefully examined the office and saw the CCTV camera, its red light blinking. He took out a stack of out dated leaflets and started balling them up and tossing them at the camera at random intervals. After about twenty minutes, a woman appeared from behind the beaded curtain. She was a pretty thing, dark skin and spiky hair twisted up behind her head.

"Can I help you?" she asked, a bit nervous. Her accent wasn't Welsh, it was pure London.

"I'm looking for Jack Harkness," Methos said simply.

"I'm sorry, there's no one here by that name. We're closed for the season," she said.

"Look, I don't have time for your Torchwood cloak and dagger nonsense. I've come from London," Methos said with barely restrained scorn. He drew his sword and laid it across the counter. "So be a doll and go get Jack Harkness."

Methos thought the woman would protest or try and continue the ruse but she vanished through the beaded curtain and a few minutes later when the curtain moved again, a handsome man stepped through. He was tall with dark hair and a cleft in his chin. Blue was certainly his colour of choice. His navy blue waistcoat was tightly fitted over a blue button down shirt and a watch chain was glinting across the front. Methos noted the World War I gun strapped to the other man's hip. He stood there for a moment, admiring the period style look and the strong jawline.

"Jack Harkness, I presume," Methos said.

"Will sent you?" he said. The American accent surprised Methos. Was no one in this Welsh tourist office actually Welsh?

"She did," Methos said as he put his sword back into his coat.

"And how can I be sure of that?" Jack said, crossing his arms over his chest and jutting out his chin.

Methos reached up. He looped his finger through the string around his neck and yanked. It gave way with a snap. He slid the glittering diamond and sapphire ring from it, handing it to Jack. "With her compliments."

Jack snatched the ring out of Methos's hand, looking at it, a mixture of grief and anger and fear in his eyes. Anger seemed to win out.

"That doesn't mean anything. You could have killed her and taken it," Jack said, drawing his Webley and pointing it at Methos's head.

"Yes because it would be such a brilliant idea to show up here if that's what I'd done," Methos said with an eye roll. "She asked me to tell you, 'Santorini'."

Jack blanched. He holstered his gun and put the ring onto his pinky finger then said, "Okay, you have my attention."

Methos wondered who this man was to Miranda. She'd called him her boss but Methos wasn't fooled for a minute. Jack Harkness was the sort of man she'd take to her bed, certainly, but nothing more. Yet, there was genuine love behind the emotions the man had displayed upon seeing the ring.

"Marvelous," Methos said, dropping the USB drive onto the counter and sliding it in Jack's direction. "She wanted me to give you this."

Jack nodded and slipped the drive into his pocket. "She's okay? Her and Ianto?"

There was no mistaking the deep worry there and Methos took a closer look at this man. He could have more colour to his cheeks and his hair looked windswept. His eyes had slightly dark circles under them. It made Methos reluctant to deliver his message.

"She is, and so is your young Mr. Jones," he said. "She also wanted me to pass on some new intelligence that she felt too dangerous to deliver herself."

Jack crossed his arms back over his chest again. "Okay."

"One of the men you're investigating, Carl Brogen? He's an immortal of the Game."

"WHAT?!" Jack roared. He didn't wait to hear the rest. He turned away from Methos and back towards the beaded curtain but Methos lunged across the counter he grabbed Jack's arm, gripping it like a vice.

"I'm not finished! She said to tell you that she's handling it."

"How?" Jack snapped, turning back. Now that Methos was certain he wouldn't leave, he let go of Jack's arm.

"Surely she told you that Duncan MacLeod and I are protecting her," he answered, confused.

"Not good enough. I'm pulling them out of there and you can tell her that," Jack snapped, pointing his finger at Methos for emphasis. He moved to turn away again.

Methos felt his patience draining away. He lunged back over the counter to grab Jack again and said, "Do you trust her so little? She has survived this long. Brogen is no match for her."

"It's not her I'm worried about trusting," Jack said, looking down the hand gripping his arm painfully tight and Methos let him go.

"Mao-Lin trusts us, isn't that enough?" He couldn't believe this man didn't understand what it meant that Miranda trusted him and MacLeod to watch her back while she was unarmed.

"Says you," Jack snapped.

_And that is the end of my tether… _"I don't need to justify my reasons for protecting her to you. Message delivered. My part is done. I need to get back to London," Methos said shortly and then turned away himself. This time it was Jack who darted around the counter, grabbing the other man's arm.

"I need to know why. She doesn't trust any of you," Jack protested.

"We understand the Game, Harkness. You don't. We are more than capable of defending Mao-Lin and your lover," Methos said. He lifted his own chin and gave Jack a hard look. "You're not the only one who cares about her."

Jack considered this stranger for a moment. It was the way he talked about Miranda that caught Jack's attention. "You love her."

Methos nodded. Oddly, he trusted this man… there was something about Jack Harkness that felt almost inspirational. _Is this what she sees in him?_ "Once, long ago, she was my wife."

"Mine too," Jack said with a sigh.

The two men looked at each other anew, almost sizing each other up. Methos looked at Harkness not bothering to conceal his surprise. He was certain Miranda and this man must have incredible sexual chemistry but he couldn't imagine the two of them having anything more. They would tear each other to pieces!

"Then you understand her heart… and her obstinance," Methos said with a smile.

"Oh yeah," Jack laughed.

His mind had already made the connection Miranda had feared. Methos remembered the telegram he'd received inviting him to the wedding of Wilhelmina Cho and Lieutenant Jack Harkness. It was impossible that this was the same man, that had been nearly a hundred years ago. _A descendent perhaps? One privy to her secrets?_ No, Miranda would never bed him if that was the case and this man's feelings for her were far from platonic. Jack had already said that Miranda had been his wife.

Methos gave Jack a hard look and said, "The truth of it, Harkness? She is being foolish but she feels some sort of obligation to this Torchwood of yours, something for which she is willing to endanger her head and that is something we do not comprehend in the slightest. The faster you can bring this to a close, the better for all."

"I never asked her for anything," Jack said, defensively.

"I didn't mean to imply such. I know she has her own reasons," Methos said. "I have to get back to London."

Jack wrote his mobile down on one of the leaflets. "Keep me posted."

"I will," Methos said, folding the leaflet and putting it into his pocket. He made for the door, if he hurried he could make the one thirty train and be back in London before four. Methos reached for the door knob and Jack couldn't restrain his curiosity.

"What happened with you two?" Jack asked.

Methos heard the hesitance. Without turning around he said sadly, "What happens to all of us, Harkness. Time."

And then the immortal was gone. Jack fiddled with the USB drive in his pocket as he descended the stairs down to the Hub. He went through the cog wheel door and headed straight for his office. He sat down and opened his laptop, plugging the drive in. He transferred the only file on it to his laptop.

Jack scrubbed at his face. Who was that man? Miranda always kept her confidences and Jack knew painfully little about her life but that was mostly because he'd never asked. This stranger had raised questions in his mind that he'd always dismissed as unimportant. Why did she keep coming back to Torchwood over and over again? Was it because of him? She drifted in and out but if Jack needed her, she came.

These past weeks without Miranda and Ianto had been nothing short of torture for him. Martha was an incredible doctor, capable and efficient. She was also a dear friend but Jack would look to the autopsy bay and miss seeing Miranda there. Dewi, the feather eating niffler, the most recent addition to the Hub, had taken to Miranda. The poor creature was pining for her, wandering to and from the north stairs and the autopsy bay on a regular basis. More than once, Jack had caught the small animal with its nose at the crack under the door to Miranda's rooms. He'd made the mistake of allowing the creature inside. It had taken him hours to clean the feathers from her bedroom. The niffler had ripped open Miranda's pillows for a snack. Myfanwy was also restless, missing Ianto. The rest of the team had taken over her care but the pterodactyl was snappy and aggressive to everyone else. Now, she was positively depressed, this past Thursday she didn't even leave for her night of exercise.

Of course, what upset Jack the most was the absence of Ianto. Mostly it was Ianto's quiet presence that he missed. He hadn't realised how much Ianto did for him without him noticing. Two weeks after Ianto had gone to London, Jack had climbed down into the bunker, dismayed at how untidy it had become. There were odds and ends strewn across the room, so much so that Jack could imagine Ianto's exasperation. The mental image of Ianto frantically tidying the bunker while simultaneously hurling barbs at Jack had brought tears to the man's eyes. He'd made a larger effort to keep the bunker clean after that… but not too clean. Ianto would be equally scandalised if he returned and the bunker was spotless. Around the same time, Jack had also noticed the Hub had disintegrated into a disastrous state and had barked at everyone.

Coffee was also a constant reminder of Ianto's absence. Jack hadn't realised how much they'd all come to rely on Ianto's regular schedule. When things at Torchwood were hectic, the team ate when they could but Jack hadn't realised how much Ianto had kept them on a regular schedule of food and drink. Jack found himself reaching his hand out for a coffee mug at precisely three in the afternoon, a coffee mug that was no longer there and each time his heart had tightened.

The absence of the other two immortals was most noticeable at night after the others had all gone home. Ianto and Miranda both lived at the Hub but now, once everyone had left for the day, Jack was alone. It had taken some time before he'd stopped sleeping on the sofa in his office. At first, he been unable to stand sleeping alone in the bed he shared with the Welshman. Often, Jack would watch the surveillance feeds from the London flat just so he could watch Ianto sleep or cook or clean. More often lately, he'd begun to wipe away tears as he watched. _I miss you…_

Jack couldn't help but tell himself that this is how it would have been if Ianto had actually died a few months ago. Every time that thought entered his mind, it was like a knife in his heart. _No, this isn't how it would have been._ Jack wouldn't even be here. He would have fled as far and as fast as possible.

He scrubbed at his face as he opened the file and read it twice. He hit his comm unit. "Mickey? Gwen? You two almost done with that item retrieval?"

"We're on our way back now," Gwen said.

"Good, team meeting when you two get back," Jack said.

There was a small knock at his door and Martha poked her head in. "Jack? Everything all right?"

"Yeah, Martha, when Gwen and Mickey get back we're going to have a team meeting," he said.

"About that bloke up in the Tourist Office?" she asked as she sat down.

"He's a friend of Will's. We have some new intel," he said, waving at the screen. "You've read the reports on Will's kind? The Game?"

Martha nodded. "She showed them to me and Mickey the first time."

"One of the men we're investigating is an immortal of the Game," Jack said, scrubbing at his face. "Will wants to take care of it."

"'Take care of it?'" Martha repeated slowly.

Jack nodded. "Challenge him and kill him."

"Jack, you can't let her do that! That's not justice, that's an execution!" Martha exclaimed.

"I don't have a choice here, Martha. I can't let UNIT get a hold of him. Do you know the lengths that we go through around here to make sure that no one finds out about her and the other immortals?" Jack said, hotly. "I'm surprised UNIT or some other agency hasn't experimented on me yet. What do you think would happen if someone found out there was an entire segment of the population that was immortal? I've seen it already, Martha, and it's not pretty."

Martha didn't answer him. She saw the dilemma but was trying to see a way past it and coming up short.

"I'm sorry, Martha. I know you don't like the idea, but immortals like Will? They police their own. There isn't a prison on Earth that can hold them. A faked suicide is all it'd take," he said, scrubbing at his face again. "I don't like it either. Even if she challenges this guy, she could lose."

Jack looked up at a knock at his door and Fish poked his head in.

"Gwen and Mickey are back," he said. "They're in the boardroom."

"Great, thanks, Fish," Jack said. "We'll be in, in a sec."

Jack got up and Martha followed him into the boardroom. He strode to the head of the table, trying not to look at the vacant seat to his right. Martha had taken up residence in Miranda's seat at the foot of the table with Mickey on her right.

"Okay people," Jack said, trying to keep his tone light. "I just received some new intel from Will. The plan is moving along as scheduled. Ianto is selling them the 'Brick Stick' and the storage units, that's scheduled for tomorrow. Hector Woodon Industries is using offices in the old Torchwood Tower."

"Someone's idea of irony, I suppose," Gwen said with an eye roll.

"Will's pretty certain that Brogen and Hastings have taken the bait with Ianto and that they'll offer him some sort of position in the organisation in exchange for more tech. Will is going to let us know when that will be but we've got a problem," Jack said. He paused, taking a breath. "Carl Brogen is an immortal of the Game."

Startled gasps were heard from Gwen and Fish.

"I knew it was too good to be true," Gwen said with a shake of her head. "Going too smooth it all was…"

"I was waiting to see how this was going to all go tits up," Fish said at the same time with a groan.

"Will says she's handling it on their end. She's got two friends of hers watching her and Ianto so they're safe for now. Brogen only knows about Ianto. He still thinks that Will is mortal. The problem is that we can't turn Brogen over to UNIT now. We need to keep the existence of Will's kind a secret."

"I don't like where this is going, Jack," Gwen said.

"I know, Gwen," Jack said with a sigh, "but we don't have a choice. There's no change to the plan except that now, we kill Brogen in the takedown. We pump him full of enough bullets to keep him down for a while, long enough for us to move him to another location so that Will can challenge him when he revives. She doesn't think she's going to have a problem beating him. I don't like it but I don't see another way. I'm willing to entertain suggestions."

Everyone at the table was silent, considering and thinking the situation through.

"We can't just let him go," Gwen said. "He's a criminal."

Jack nodded. "Will says he's mentally unstable as well. If we let him go, chances are he'll come back for Will or Ianto at some point in the future. Letting him go would also leave him free to commit other crimes."

"I know you don't want to hear this, Jack, but I agree with Evie's plan. I know you don't like it when she has to fight other immortals. Fuck all, none of us like it and it's only happened once, but I don't see another way," Fish said.

"What about those friends of hers? Are they immortals too?" Gwen asked.

"Yes, they both are," Jack said.

"Can't one of them deal with Brogen?" Gwen asked, her brow furrowing.

"An execution isn't justice, Jack," Mickey said, unknowingly repeating what Martha had said earlier. "What's the difference if one of Miranda's friends kills him or she does it herself?"

"Miranda would be safe," Gwen insisted.

"I don't think we can ask that of them, Gwen," Jack said with a shake of his head. "They may not be willing to do it. Every time one of them faces a challenger, it's a risk to their lives."

"They're risking their lives now to protect her and Ianto," Gwen said.

"There's a difference between watching their backs and going sword to sword with someone," Fish pointed out. "Evie's not challenging this bloke so she can put a notch in her belt. I think we need to trust her."

"What if we move in now?" Martha asked.

"Trust me, it's what I want to do, Martha, but it still doesn't solve the problem of what we do with Brogen afterwards," Jack said.

"You can't move in, Jack. Not after all of this! If we spook Brogen and Hastings they could run and then what?" Fish exclaimed. "We still don't know if they're alone in this. They could have other conspirators. We don't know where the holding facility is that they're looting."

Jack nodded. "Will wants us to sit tight and proceed as planned and I don't like it but I agree."

"She really thinks she can beat this man?" Gwen asked.

Jack nodded again. "Her exact words were, 'I'll wipe my boots with him.'"

"That sounds like Evie," Fish said with a chuckle.

"Fish? Where are we on the tracer programs and the surveillance work?" Jack asked, turning to the technician.

"I've got all the falsified information set up for the database that Ianto's going to 'hack' into. I've got the tracer programs and the viruses set up for the account information. We'll only end up with a problem if Brogen tries to pay Ianto with cash," Fish said. "I doubt that will happen. Ianto said he asked for two million sterling."

Mickey chimed in, "I think they're doing good with the cover story. The surveillance on the flat hasn't changed. You'd think with the amount of time they spend smoking on the balcony they'd at least put some sound out there but they haven't yet."

Gwen nodded. "It means that they trust them a fair amount. If everything goes as planned, they may relax the surveillance."

"How much information will that virus give us?" Jack asked.

"It'll give us everything, Jack," Mickey said.

"Great, for now, we continue as planned but I want everyone to brainstorm. I want quick extraction strategies and scenarios for separating Brogen from the others," Jack said. "Let's get back to work people."


	24. Chapter 24

Since Kiernan had heard from Shawn Graham about Carl Brogen, he hadn't dared leave Miranda for an entire day like he had been. Now, he was slipping away for only a few sporadic hours, on and off but he'd decided that today would be the last day he'd do that. He was in the cafe across the hospital watching staff members and people come and go as he waited for Miranda to get off of work.

Over the past few weeks, his mind had made a few startling connections and concocted a few fascinating theories but that was all. Miranda was not who the Watchers thought she was. Adam Pierson was not who the Watchers thought he was. The two immortals were connected in some way that Kiernan couldn't understand. There were too many gaps, too many inconsistencies for him to put his finger on anything. He had information but none of the context to connect the pieces together and it was frustrating him. No matter how much research he did, no matter how many chronicles he read, no matter how many documents he scrutinized… nothing made sense. He was getting no where and he was just frustrated. Normally, if a chronicle came into question, there were procedures that Kiernan could follow. He could present his concerns to the appropriate people with the appropriate evidence but he didn't have enough solid information. Actually, he didn't have any solid information and with his research at a dead end, he had started reading Chen Mao-Lin's chronicle over and over. The risk of leaving Miranda unwatched was far outweighing what he was gaining so he'd basically given up.

"This seat taken?" a deep voice asked from behind him.

Kiernan turned and saw Duncan MacLeod. Too surprised to do anything else, he shook his head and waved at the chair.

"You know who I am?" Duncan asked. He sat down opposite the Watcher.

Kiernan nodded. "You're Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod - the Highlander."

"And you're Kiernan Davies," Duncan said, holding out his hand.

Kiernan shook it briefly. Duncan flashed Kiernan a friendly smile that wasn't returned. The waitress noticed Duncan arrive and walked over. He ordered a cup of coffee.

"What can I do for you, Mr. MacLeod?" Kiernan lowered his voice to ensure they weren't overheard. He tried to make himself sound more bold than he felt.

Trying to be nonchalant, Duncan went about fixing his coffee and said, "I hear you're doing some research."

"Which is none of your business," Kiernan said shortly, again trying to sound more bold than he felt.

"It is when you're researching someone I care about," Duncan said. He leaned forward, wrapping his hands around the coffee mug. Kiernan resisted the urge to swallow when he saw the hooded eyes. The Highlander's ambiguity piqued his curiosity.

"Who exactly are we talking about here?" Kiernan asked.

"Adam," he said. The name came out quietly but then Duncan's voice strengthened. His eyes were still hooded. "I'm talking about Adam."

Kiernan drew himself up, trying to summon courage. "I don't like being threatened, Mr. MacLeod."

"I'm not threatening you. I'm offering you Chen's story," Duncan said, patiently. "I'm asking for some quid pro quo."

"What?" Kiernan couldn't believe his ears.

Duncan hesitated. His betrayal of Miranda's trust was, once again, harsh and acidic in his throat. _Spend more time with Methos, will you, Mac? I'm working all the time. I think he's lonely…_ Miranda had said to him over twenty years ago. Duncan had done as she'd asked. He and Methos had spent time together going to museums and lunches and dinners and films. Duncan wasn't sure how it had happened but the next thing he knew, they were in bed together and he hadn't cared how wrong it was just as long as Methos kept doing _that_ with his mouth. Afterwards, their brains had been so addled that they hadn't felt Miranda's presence. Just as the words 'this was a mistake' crept into Duncan's mind, the bedroom door had flung open. Miranda had stood there, open mouthed, her sword raised. Duncan had thought she'd kill them both. But she hadn't. She'd simply turned away and walked out of the room. Three days later, Methos received the divorce papers that he signed without even reading.

Duncan had never really gotten over the guilt. He'd immediately broken off his relationship with Methos, refusing to see him or accept his calls. Months later, Methos had cornered him on the barge in Paris. _Punishing yourself and me isn't going to undo anything…_ he'd said and he'd been right. They'd stayed away from Miranda, keeping their distance knowing that the immortal woman needed time. When Adaf Terfel had threatened her life, they'd extended an olive branch.

And now, just when the anger was finally beginning to drain away and the resentment beginning to fade, Duncan was sitting on a bench telling Miranda's greatest secrets to her Watcher. He knew that if Kiernan continued to dig into her past, he would encounter Methos and that he could never allow. Duncan MacLeod had been faced with a choice… the man he loved or the friend who had saved his life. There was no right answer. Either way he was fucked and one choice would just leave him less fucked than the other.

Kiernan watched the Highlander carefully, seeing that he was still agonising over the decision. It would be a simple choice for most, lover over friend. Both Duncan and Miranda had studied under the great May-Ling Shen together and were good friends. Kiernan had pieced together enough to make a few assumptions about precisely who was involved in the adultery that had ended Miranda's marriage. The whole thing was a real pickle but it wasn't just their friendship and the guilt of an indiscretion that was bothering Duncan.

In 1875, Miranda and Duncan had both been living in western America. Miranda had been working as a washerwoman, living a quiet life in a small quiet town, while Duncan had been living in the wilderness. Kiernan didn't have all the details but he had read a vague account of an incident where Miranda had saved Duncan's life along with the life of someone he loved. It had nearly cost her her head. The Highlander was indebted to the woman and Duncan MacLeod was a man who paid his debts, a man who took his honour seriously. Kiernan couldn't imagine Miranda would ignore this snub. Would she kill Duncan for this?

"I'll tell you what I can about Chen Mao-Lin in exchange for two things," Duncan said.

"Let me guess, the first thing is that I stop researching your boyfriend," Kiernan said. "What's the second? That I don't tell Mao-Lin how you threw her under the bus?"

"She'll know anyway. No," Duncan said with a shake of his head, "after I tell you what I know… I want you to talk to her."

"So that's your plan? Have her finish me off?" Kiernan exclaimed. Miranda's friendliness since he'd become her Watcher had had Kiernan misjudging her but he'd taken Dawson's warning to heart. "Whatever you tell me is going to be pretty fucking useless if I'm dead and the minute she knows I know the truth that's what'll happen."

"She's not going to kill you," Duncan insisted.

"Bollocks! Dawson said-"

"Joe was just trying to warn you off and I'm sorry about that," Duncan said, gently. "Look, I get you're not doing this to endanger her. You're doing what you think is right. Right now, all she sees is a threat. She doesn't see the who or the why. If you level with her, tell her the truth, she'll understand. I know Mao-Lin and the last thing she wants to do is kill you."

Kiernan let out a snort. "What the fuck makes you think that?"

"Because if she wanted you dead, you'd already be dead," Duncan said, coldly.

Kiernan sat back and slipped his hands into his pockets, activating a small voice recorder in his pocket. "All right, Mr. MacLeod… I'm all ears."

"You're sure you want to hear all this? You know the old saying… be careful what you wish for."

Kiernan nodded and started to listen. When Duncan was finished talking, Kiernan was dazed and overwhelmed. His stomach twisted in knots. Duncan stood up, looking guilty and sad. He rummaged in his pockets for a few coins to pay for his coffee. Kiernan laid his hand on Duncan's arm and shook his head.

"I've got it," Kiernan said.

Duncan nodded and walked, his head down. Kiernan watched him leave, seeing how Duncan's decision was still eating at the man. Kiernan craned his neck as he watched him walk away. Duncan had unknowingly provided Kiernan with the last few pieces of the puzzle. He'd provided him with some of the context he'd needed to connect a few more dots.

Miranda and Duncan had known each other over a hundred years. They had studied from the same teacher and from each other. The two immortals were friends but not overly close. Kiernan certainly didn't think them close enough for Miranda to have told the Highlander as much as he knew. Sure, it was the Letts version of Miranda's life but Kiernan could tell that Duncan had carefully edited his tale. Duncan had told him he'd tell him all he could, not all he knew but how had Duncan come across all this information? The only explanation that Kiernan could come up with was that it was from a third party and there were very few people that could count themselves mutual friends of Miranda and Duncan and many of them were dead. Except for Adam Pierson. It seems that the life of Adam Pierson and Miranda Ryan was more entwined than Kiernan originally thought.

Kiernan sat there for a while thinking and re-reading Chen Mao-Lin's chronicle. When he glanced at his watch, he cursed. He'd lost track of time. Miranda had likely already left work and was halfway back to the flat by now. With a sigh, Kiernan made his way back to his own flat. He needed to think some more. It took him a while to get back to the east London flat he shared with his fellow Watcher, Shawn Graham. Kiernan put his key into the door with a sigh. He dropped his rucksack next to the worn sofa and then started to rummage in the fridge for something to eat. He didn't find anything really edible so he twisted the cap off a beer bottle and opened a tin of soup. While he waited for the microwave, he sat on the sofa and dug his tablet out of his rucksack, again so he could re-read the chronicle.

By the time he'd finished his soup and washed the bowl, he was on his second beer. He heard a key in the door. It was Shawn. The other man dropped his keys and wallet onto the counter and started looking for something to eat.

"Oi! You ate the last tin of soup?" Shawn whinged.

"I'm sorry. I'll go to the shops tomorrow," Kiernan said.

"No, it's fine, I'll go," Shawn sighed. He took out some breakfast cereal and poured it out into a bowl.

"There's no milk," Kiernan informed him.

"I know," Shawn said. He started to use his fingers to pick the cereal from the bowl, eating it dry. He turned around and leaned against the kitchen counter with the heels of his hands resting on the edge. He was looking down at his feet. "Look, mate, we need to talk."

Kiernan looked up from his tablet. "I know I'm not the best flatmate, Shawn. I'm sorry, honestly. I haven't lived with someone else in a long time."

"This isn't about the flat, Kiernan," Shawn said, frustrated. "This is about work. You keep this bollocks up and I'm going to have to report you."

"Wait, what?" Kiernan gasped.

"I'm not a fucking idiot, Kiernan," Shawn snapped. "I know you're going off to the library every day. You're leaving Chen unwatched. Today when she got home from work, you weren't watching her. Do you know how fucking daft that is? This isn't fucking Cardiff. This is London!"

"Shawn-"

"No, Kiernan!" Shawn shouted. "If anyone knew, you'd be bounced back to research so fast your head would spin! And you wouldn't be back on the fast track to the Methos Chronicle either! You'd be the tea boy looking for fucking typos!"

"Shawn! Stop! You don't understand!" Kiernan yelled back.

"Well then, explain this to me, mate, because all I see is some research hot shot who's dropping the ball now that he's at the grown up's table," Shawn said loudly.

"I can't tell you, Shawn… It's not safe," Kiernan insisted. S_he used the word bullet and she used the word brain, _Dawson had said.

"Is all this fucking research for Chen?! Are you interfering?!" Shawn screamed. "Have you lost your fucking mind?!"

"NO!" Kiernan denied. "No, I'm not interfering, Shawn. I can't explain. I found out some things about about Chen-"

"You're not research anymore, Kiernan! You're field!" Shawn shouted, waving his arm. "You found something wrong with Chen's chronicle? You tell the repair department and let them do their job!"

Kiernan shook his head. He had no way of explaining this to Shawn without telling him everything and if he did that, Shawn could be in danger as well. He didn't entirely believe Duncan that Miranda wouldn't kill him for knowing the truth. It was one thing if Kiernan knew the truth and kept it to himself. It was another if he started blabbing.

"I'm trying to understand here, Kiernan. I am. I like you, mate. You're a good bloke. But I can't help you unless you let me," Shawn said as he sat down next to Kiernan.

He'd kept this to himself for so long. Months now he'd known something was wrong and he hadn't told a soul. He'd felt so alone in it all. He didn't want to put his friend in danger but maybe Shawn would understand.

"Chen's chronicle is wrong. It's fucking fiction," Kiernan said, shaking his head. "Sometimes Chen asks me for favours. When Ianto Jones came into play, she wanted me to set up a meeting with the two other immortals in Cardiff to ask for amnesty for him."

"So you set it up?" Shawn asked. There was no accusation. It wasn't interfering per se.

"Yeah," Kiernan said with a nod. "In exchange for setting up the meeting, she gave me her first death information."

"Holy shit, Kiernan!" Shawn said, surprised. It was a crucial piece of information.

"It was all wrong, mate," Kiernan said, shaking his head. "She lied to me."

Shawn felt a bit crestfallen. "So she lied? Big deal, all these fucking immortals lie."

"It wasn't just that she lied. Something just felt off. So I looked into it. That's what all the research has been for. She's not Chen Mao-Lin. She's someone else-"

"-who killed Chen and took her place," Shawn finished, flatly. He made the connection that it had taken Kiernan hours of research to discover. "Not surprising. It's a bloody clever idea when you think about it."

"Exactly… but what made me more suspicious was when Joe Dawson told me to back off," Kiernan said.

"Joe _Dawson_?! The Highlander's Watcher?" Shawn exclaimed. "Why would he care?"

"I wondered the same thing so I started looking into MacLeod and Pierson that was when I found this," he said, turning his tablet around. Kiernan showed Shawn the oddities about Adam Pierson's chronicle along with the photograph of Miranda and Pierson.

"What the fuck?" Shawn said as he scrolled through the chronicle, confusion on every inch of his face. "There's nothing here about him being married to Chen! The chronicle doesn't even exist until he started seeing MacLeod… If he was with Chen and Chen had a Watcher then we should have known!"

"Exactly, something is really wrong there," Kiernan said, taking the tablet back.

"You should submit this to the repair department, Kiernan," Shawn insisted, gesturing at the photograph.

"The chronicle is locked at the highest levels, Shawn. And submitting it to the repair department would make them look into Pierson's chronicle, not Chen's," Kiernan pointed out.

"Chen's chronicle is one of the pride and joys of research, Kiernan. You will never get them to shuffle it to the repair department without some serious fucking evidence," Shawn said. "You even mention it…"

"And it'll make waves all the way up to the Tribunal, I know. I'm already poking a bloody hornets' nest looking into Chen. Whatever is going on with Pierson's chronicle is even bigger," Kiernan said, running his hand through his hair. "I do have proof. I was watching the hospital and MacLeod showed up. He gave me the Letts version of Chen Mao-Lin."

"_THE HIGHLANDER?!" _Shawn screeched in a decidedly unmanly way. "Why would he do that?"

"He wants me to back off Pieson's chronicle. There is something serious going on there," Kiernan said with a shake of his head. "MacLeod said Chen's four times older than we think she is."

Shawn's eyes went wide. "The Lady Methuselah…"

"MacLeod insisted there is a female immortal out there who's older than Chen but none that we know about," Kiernan sighed. He took in a deep, shaky breath. He lowered his voice, trying to keep the fear out of it. He'd come to the portion of MacLeod's tale that had twisted Kiernan's stomach. "MacLeod said Chen rode with the Horsemen."

"Mate, you are so completely in over your head! Chen rode with the Horsemen?!" Shawn shouted as he leapt to his feet.

Kiernan swallowed. "MacLeod said for a few hundred years."

"Those fucking psychopaths?! Do you know how may people Evan Caspari killed in Romania?! Do you know what the research department has uncovered about the Horsemen since MacLeod ended them?!"

"I know! I know!" Kiernan exclaimed.

"If she really was one of the Horsemen, Kiernan, she could go Hannibal Lecter on you. Your liver with a side of fava beans and nice fucking chianti!" Shawn said, his face grey tinged. "You need to request a new assignment!"

"I have to see this through," Kiernan said.

"What? Until you're dead?" Shawn exclaimed. "Immortals like Chen don't get assigned the new bloke from research, Kiernan! They get the ex-spooks from MI-6!"

Kiernan produced a small voice recorder. "I recorded this. It's my conversation with MacLeod. If anything happens to me… get it to the repair department."

"Don't do anything stupid, Kiernan," Shawn gasped.

"I'm not. I'm going to watch like I'm supposed to. When this Torchwood operation is over, I'll talk to her. If you don't hear from me? If something happens to me? Anything. I don't care how innocent it seems. I end up dead, you get that to the repair department."

"Kiernan, I think you need to call in some help on this. You have solid evidence here, enough for them to investigate Chen and Pierson's chronicles!" Shawn said, brandishing the recorder.

Kiernan shook his head. There was one thing Watchers learned from watching immortals. It was an old fashioned idea but most immortals were old fashioned sort of people.

All Kiernan had to say was, "I gave Duncan MacLeod my word, Shawn."


	25. Chapter 25

Three days after his meeting with Brogen in the church, Ianto found himself standing at Canary Wharf. He stood in the middle of the pavement, staring up at the building. His heart was pounding in his chest. His hands were cold and clammy. He could hear the screams and the shouting. He could smell the blood from the conversion units. The stench of fear had also hung thick on the air as everyone tried to flee the building. He could hear the Daleks and their screams of 'Exterminate!' and the Cybermen screaming 'Delete!' as a reply. He remembered seeing him, The Doctor, the Time Lord who had saved the world. _They're gone. It's over. They're just ghosts…_

Without thinking, he repeated the sequence of movements he'd always seen Miranda do. He closed his eyes and then inhaled sharply, filling his lungs as far as he could. He exhaled as slowly as possible, simultaneously rolling his shoulders to relieve the tension in them. He wasn't calm or at ease but the assault of the memories had stopped. He no longer felt panic stricken.

After taking another deep breath, he entered the old Torchwood Tower. The entire building had been gutted and redone. The government leased the offices now. There was no reception desk, just a directory behind glass. Ianto scanned the list and found what he was looking for. Hector Woodon Industries occupied the twentieth floor. He rode the lift up and got out. There was no one. The offices looked deserted. Ianto was about to get back into the lift and leave when he felt the pressure in his head. He turned just in time to see Carl Brogen walking through the opposite door.

"Memories, eh, Jones?" he said with a smirk. "How about the five pence tour?"

Brogen led Ianto through the door behind him and it was bustling with activity. There were about a dozen or more people hard at work examining various artefacts and alien tech. They all cast him and Brogen nervous glances. No, they looked at Ianto nervously. They looked at Brogen with fear. With a smile, Brogen walked Ianto in a circle around the room and then led him into a small office. The two mercenaries were already in the room waiting.

"I've shown you mine, now you show me yours," he said with another smirk.

Ianto lifted the case he was carrying up onto the desk and opened it. He and Miranda had decided to reserve the rest of the individual pieces of alien tech. Ianto only had the 'Brick Stick'. He took out the storage device and laid it onto the desk along with a standard USB drive.

"It's a mass storage device similar to one of these," he said pointing at the drive, "like our current flash drive technology but it stores much more. These are all of Toshiko Sato's notes on the tech. I'm throwing that in as a bonus."

Brogen examined the drive, bending down to look at it.

"Fantastic," he said. "Don't be a cock tease, Jones. Let's have it all."

Ianto took out his laptop and opened up the correct software.

"Torchwood's off-site holdings are in a separate database than their archives. They're all identified artefacts."

Ianto started to type, bringing up the database. "These holdings are in two separate storage facilities between Cardiff and Newport."

He angled the laptop so Brogen could see as the other immortal leaned over his shoulder. "There are roughly a two hundred artefacts and tech."

"This is everything?" Brogen said, a little disappointed.

"I agreed to two holding facilities," Ianto said. "Take it or leave it."

"Oh, I'll take it," Brogen said with a laugh as he walked to the other side of the desk opening his own laptop, turning it so it faced Ianto. "And my end of the bargain, two million in sterling. Account number please?"

Ianto handed Brogen a small slip of paper from his pocket, a false account number that Fish had created. Brogen typed in the number and Ianto verified the transfer.

"Was it good for you?" Brogen asked with a laugh.

Ianto packed away his laptop without saying anything. The bank account was fake. The bank it belonged to was also fake. Accessing the account information had activated a virus that Fish had designed. It granted Fish access to all the computers in Hector Woodon Industries. When Fish had initially hacked in, he was only able to access the financials, a low security bypass for Fish. This program would now give Fish and Mickey access to everything. Their plan was for Ianto to attempt to infiltrate the organisation more fully but right now, Ianto wanted to get as far away from Brogen and Canary Wharf as he could.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Brogen," Ianto said as he stood.

Brogen held out his hand and said, "We could use someone like you, Jones."

Ianto shook the hand briefly hoping Brogen didn't feel how clammy it was. "You have everything I do. It wasn't easy breaking into that database. The only reason I was able to is because it's a low security system, rarely accessed and low priority. Joe Fischer is good."

"Hastings is right. You were wasted at Three. Come work for me. I won't even ask you to bend over a desk."

The two mercenaries sniggered.

"You're not my type, Brogen," Ianto snapped.

"Curiouser and curiouser. Touched a bit of a nerve there, didn't I?" Brogen said as he looked at Ianto. "And here I thought you were too clever for Harkness's charms."

"That's none of your business," Ianto said tersely.

"So touchy," Brogen laughed. "That sodomite is nothing more than a playboy in a coat. Don't be a short sighted little prat, Jones. See the big picture and work for me. I'll make it worth your while. You really want to work in a coffee shop forever?"

Ianto didn't want to accept. He wanted out of this building but it was exactly what they'd all worked so hard for. He closed the case and said, "I'm listening."

"Companies pay handsomely for the next big thing," Brogen said. "That two million I just paid you? Consider it a signing bonus."

"What are you offering me?" Ianto asked.

Brogen jerked his head towards the door and the two mercenaries left the room.

"We take out Hastings and I make you full partner," he replied once they were alone. "We're better than they are, Jones. Mortals like Hastings? They're nothing but dust on our boots. We could live like kings, taking whatever we want. Money. Women."

"And how do I know you won't 'take me out' when you find 'the next big thing'?" Ianto said.

"We're the same, Jones. We're immortal. I could teach you the Game and the sword. We could travel the world headhunting, you and I," he said with a smile.

"This isn't a team sport, Brogen," Ianto snapped.

"And there it is again, the goody two shoes. Did the Highlander tell you that?" Brogen sneered. "No one obeys the rules anymore, Jones. The two of us would be unstoppable."

Brogen held his hand out to Ianto and Ianto grasped it.

"Oh, the fun we are going to have together. Beholden to no one, masters of our own fate. The world will be what we make it," Brogen said with a smile. "I'll pick you up at eight."

"For what?" Ianto asked.

"To celebrate, of course," he replied with a laugh.

"Sounds like fun," Ianto said.

Brogen heard Ianto's hesitation. "Need to smooth it over with the little woman?"

Ianto nodded and suddenly the other immortal's face turned sad, his eyes downcast. The change surprised Ianto.

"You should leave her," he said, sadly. "It would be better for her; better for you."

"I love her," Ianto said, genuinely.

"All the more reason," he said, just as sadly as before. Then Ianto saw something harden behind his eyes and he said, "No attachments, Jones. They make you weak, vulnerable. Satisfy your flesh with them but never invest your heart."

Brogen clapped his hand onto Ianto's shoulder and said, "Enough of this sentimental drivel. We'll bring Hastings with us tonight. You can kill him then."

"Is killing him really necessary?" Ianto asked. He had no desire to kill Lance Hastings. The man was far from innocent but he would rather see him face justice. His mind started to turn towards another solution.

"Oh the goody two shoes again," Brogen said with a slight eye roll.

"You don't think it's practical to have him around in case all this goes tits up? A patsy?" Ianto asked.

Brogen smiled. "Clever boy! Useful already, Jones."

Ianto nodded and took the case off the desk. "I'll see you later."

"I'll pick you up at eight," Brogen said, ushering Ianto out the office door. He watched the young Welshman leave and once he was through the doors he jerked his head at the mercenary who followed Ianto. He stepped back into his office and opened his laptop, bringing up the footage of the Welshman and his little tart fucking. She was a sweet thing with that beautiful skin, those pert little tits. He closed his eyes and imagined her squealing beneath him. He wanted to take her, just as he'd seen Ianto do in the first recording - rough, with her screaming. That was how you took a woman. A smirk spread across his face as he rubbed his straining erection. Just as he was reaching to unbutton his trousers, Hastings burst through the door.

"Don't you fucking knock?" Brogen said with an eye roll.

"What did he say?" Hastings asked.

"Yes, of course," Brogen answered with a shrug.

"I don't think we can trust him," Hastings said, looking out the window trying to pick Ianto out of the people below.

"He checks out. It doesn't matter. We have the perfect means to keep him cooperating," Brogen said with a smile. He clicked on his laptop a few times, zooming in on Miranda's face. He turned the laptop around to show Hastings. "He loves her. She's all the leverage we need on Jones. He's cooperating and as long as he cooperates, she'll be alive and safe."

Hastings didn't look so convinced. "Jones and Harkness were together a long time, Carl. You really believe he's become so enamored with this woman so readily?"

"Harkness is a trollop, his appetites unnatural," Brogen said, revulsion flashing across his face. "Ianto Jones is no sodomite."

"Your homophobia aside, Carl, all this seems too convenient," Hastings said, crossing his arms.

Brogen turned the laptop back to him and brought up the footage from two nights ago. He played it and then turned the laptop around again.

"Does that look like two people fucking for the sake of it?" he asked. "There's love in his eyes and in hers."

Hastings didn't even watch, turning his eyes away from the intimate act.

"Is it necessary to threaten her?" Hastings asked. "She's innocent, Carl."

"No one is innocent. 'Behold, I was shapen in iniquity; and in sin did my mother conceive me.'"

"Must you spout all this meaningless scripture?" Hastings snapped.

Brogen saw red. He darted across to Hastings, seizing the man by the shirt. "You will not blaspheme in my presence."

Hastings's eyes went wide with fear and he held his hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry!"

Brogen let go of him and shoved him towards his office door. "Get out. Pray for God's forgiveness."

Hastings fled the room with a shake of his head. When he'd run into Brogen in New York, the two had laughed and gone out for a few drinks. Brogen's idea was nothing short of brilliant. Hastings had known all about Hartman's little side projects. He knew where the outside holding facility was. The more Brogen had talked, the more Hastings had agreed with him.

Torchwood and Yvonne Hartman had rained Daleks and Cybermen down upon Canary Wharf and caused so much death and destruction. Yes, they were the lucky ones. They'd survived but didn't they deserve to live that life comfortably? Hastings had lived his whole life as a good man. He'd never stepped out of line, not once. And what had it gotten him? Nothing. Nice blokes always finished last and here he was, dead last. The government money was gone and when he'd run into Brogen, he'd had nothing, just a dead end job. Brogen was right. Torchwood owed them.

But the man was becoming increasingly unstable. He was spouting more and more scripture, becoming increasingly short tempered and erratic. One of the scientists, a young woman, had come to Hastings last week. She'd mentioned a few unwanted advances from Brogen. Hastings had made a note to confront Brogen about it but a few days after, the young woman didn't show up for work. Hastings had been disappointed at the lack of notice especially after he'd assured her he would look into the matter personally. The addition of Ianto Jones to their plans was a solid one. The young man was efficient and capable. Perhaps, after a year or so, the two of them could buy Brogen out and be rid of him.


	26. Chapter 26

Ianto had given his job at the coffee shop a few day's notice, working only through the weekend and Monday. He knew it was rude but the sooner all this was over the better. He stood in front of the mirror, smoothing his tie down over his shirt. He'd always worn suits at One. It had been required but he'd never been keen on them back then. He'd found them uncomfortable and restrictive. When he'd flirted his way into Torchwood Three and Jack had shown such an interest in the suit, Ianto had continued to wear them. For a while, they'd been like a shield between the growing guilt in his heart and the rest of the team - like a woollen suit of armour. After the thing that had been Lisa nearly killed everyone, Ianto continued to don the the suit, again, using it as a wall between his grief, guilt and the outside world. After a while, he'd become comfortable in them. It was as much his costume as Jack's greatcoat or Miranda's ever present hidden arsenal. And when he and Jack had started their affair, it hadn't hurt that Jack found the suits so appealing.

Every since he'd gotten to London with Miranda, Ianto hadn't felt himself. The charade, their ruse didn't sit right with him as he put on his coffee shop uniform. It all was just… wrong. Putting on a suit made him feel like himself again and reminded him of who he was. He was Torchwood. No, that was wrong. He was part of Jack's Torchwood and Jack was what made all the difference. He took a few deep breaths to try and relax himself. When he left the flat with his laptop bag in hand, he headed to the nearest Tube station with a lump in his throat and feeling a bit queasy.

The commute to Canary Wharf felt old and familiar but not in a comforting way. It was a strange and eerie sort of deja vu, like something out of a bad dream. Even walking up to the building dressed for work was surreal. When he stepped through the doors, he half expected to see Miriam, the middle aged receptionist who always told him he looked too thin. It felt strange riding the lift up to the twentieth floor alone. When he'd worked at One, the damned thing was usually packed to the gills.

Just as with his first visit, when he stepped out of the lift there was no one to greet him. Ianto didn't want to step through the doors on his own. He waited for a few moments but since no one appeared, he decided to go in. He'd taken no more than a step towards the door before a sharp pressure flared in his head. Carl Brogen's appearance through the doors followed a few moments later.

"Morning, Jones," Brogen said with a sly smile.

"Carl…" Ianto said. His voice held barely restrained impatience. "We've got an office all set up for you," Brogen said. He held the door open for Ianto and smiled as he walked past him.

Ianto followed Brogen as the other immortal led him through the work area, making random introductions as they went. He had no idea why. Brogen scarcely knew anyone's name. It was well before nine but many of the scientists were already busy at work. Brogen opened up the door one ahead of his own office. Once they were inside, Ianto shut the door behind them and turned to Brogen.

"What do you tell them?" he asked, jerking his head at the closed door.

"The company line, Jones. 'If it's alien it's ours,'" Brogen said, smiling at his own cleverness. "We're Torchwood London rebuilt. I even have them sign the Official Secrets Act."

And that almost made Ianto's right hook fly at Brogen's face. His hand tightened on the handle of his laptop bag, nearly white knuckle. He tried to keep his breath even and slow. Not only was this bastard profiting from the wreckage of Torchwood One, he was desecrating their deaths with deceit, convincing these people they were doing their duty to their country. It was sickening.

"Clever," Ianto said, trying to hide his contempt.

"I'm not just a pretty face," Brogen said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "New digs, Jones. It even has a window. Quite the change from that manky hovel of Harkness's."

Ianto didn't answer him. He dropped his laptop bag onto the desk and walked over to the window to look out at the view. Right now, all he wanted was to be back in that manky hovel. He wanted to strip off every piece of his clothing, burn it and then scrub himself raw. Out of the corner of his eye, Ianto could see adhesive on the glass - small remnants of the clear tape that the previous occupant of the office had used to hang things on the glass. Ianto immediately remembered who it was. _Joan Lange, research oversight… Converted…_ his mind whispered. She'd used the tape to hang her children's drawings on the window.

Brogen walked over and put his arm on Ianto's shoulder and Ianto jumped, recoiling from the touch. Brogen raised his hands, calmingly. There was no mistaking the slightly haunted look in the man's eyes.

"Nasty business, it all was, Jones. 'Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust…' There's nothing we can do for them but pray," Brogen said, gently. He turned away from the window and Ianto heard him mutter, "Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine, et lux perpetua leceat eis. Requiescant in pace."

_Amen…_ Ianto thought to himself.

"Before I forget, Jones," Brogen said as he dug into his suit jacket pocket. "An advance on your pay."

"That's not necessary," Ianto said, pushing the envelope back at Brogen. He pointed out, "I already have that 'signing bonus'."

"True but right now there's plenty to go around. You should take that lovely young thing of yours out somewhere nice," Brogen said, thrusting the envelope back into Ianto's hands.

"I'll think about it." Ianto gave in and folded the envelope, tossing it into his laptop bag. He looked up at the genuine sadness in Brogen's voice. The other immortal was staring out of the window. The look on Brogen's face had changed and now Ianto saw grief.

"I never wanted to be anything but a priest. All I wanted to do was to spread the word of God to the savages of the New World… until I saw her. Her name was Kerani. I'd forsaken everything… my people… my vows… my church… When the bloody pox took her, I drove a knife into my heart. Imagine my surprise when I woke up in a stone lined grave beside her rotting corpse," Brogen said with a slight tremor to his voice. "Do something nice for the woman you love, Jones. One day, she'll have worms eating out her eyes too."

The honesty surprised Ianto and despite everything, he found himself feeling a bit of pity. _Nothing's simple anymore…_ Ianto watched as Brogen's face hardened. He turned and put his hand down on a stack of folders on the desk.

"These are all our current projects. Most of it's reverse engineering any of the tech we've salvaged from Hartman's pet projects. They're all in various stages of development. Some are just started off, some are nearly done. Have a read."

Readily accepting the change in subject, Ianto sat down behind the desk and pulled the first folder towards him. "Shouldn't take me too long to get through it all."

"A lot of our projects go no where. We evaluate but most of the time, it's a dead end," Brogen said with a shrug. "We need a fresh supply of tech so I'd like to take a look round those storage units soon as possible."

"The storage units aren't physically watched and there's no special security on them," Ianto lied. He and Miranda had carefully crafted the cover story to make sure that Brogen and Hastings didn't feel like they had to pounce on the storage units but also so that they didn't feel as if they had all the time in the world. "Unless they need something from them, which is never, they just sit there but the access codes are automatically rotated at random intervals, usually every few weeks, so we can't sit on it too long or we'll lose access. If I break in again, they might notice. Like I said, Joe Fischer is good."

Brogen nodded. "Thursday then? It'll give you a few days to get up to speed with everything. I'll take a few of the scientists out, haul it all back and that will give us Friday to catalog everything. You could tag along, Jones, take Friday off and spend a long weekend visiting that sister of yours."

"We're not close. We just talk on the phone now and again. And she's not really my sister is she?" Ianto said with a shrug. He tried to be as disinterested as he could. The last thing he needed was to worry about what this madman would do to his sister and her family. He tried to turn Brogen's attention back to the storage units. "We could clear both units out and no one would notice probably for years."

"I'll want a list of the other storage units," Brogen insisted.

"There aren't any," Ianto said, immediately.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire," Brogen sneered. "I know how much tech goes through Three, Jones."

"In the main archive, yes, but not in the outside storage units. Criteria for outside storage is identifiable and non-hazardous. Almost nothing that comes through the rift falls into both of those categories. There are only three units-"

"Well, what about the third one then," Brogen interrupted.

Ianto stood up and leaned forward a bit. "That unit isn't full. It's still in active use. If you think they're not going to notice if even one fucking thing is missing, you're daft and we all might as well just walk straight into a UNIT cell right now."

"Wouldn't want to tip Harkness and his little rabble off now would we?" Brogen said, disappointed. "If there's a way into the Hub-"

"No! The only ways in are secure. I don't have access anymore," Ianto said, sitting back down. "There's no way inside without being detected."

Brogen's eyes narrowed and Ianto saw a realisation dawn in his eyes. "Why didn't Harkness retcon you?"

The question was tinged with suspicion. Ianto stood up again. He was trying his best to keep the act up. He hadn't anticipated how difficult this would be once he was face to face with Brogen. Playing happy couple for the cameras at the flat was one thing but this was something else entirely. This wasn't a question that he'd anticipated at all. He had to do some fast thinking but creative PR was something that Ianto Jones excelled at. He'd learned from concocting cover stories and from Miranda that the best lies were the ones mixed with the truth. He planted his hands on the desk and looked down at them.

"When Harkness came for here his annual meeting with Hartman that last time, how many of the staff did he shag?" Ianto asked, quietly.

"Four. Two simultaneously I heard," Brogen said.

"I was going to propose to Lisa. I'd spent every last pound I had on that bloody ring but I didn't care. She liked to play Scrabble so that was how I was going to do it. I was going to spell it out on the board… but we'd had a row, a big one. I don't even remember what it was about. And the next day there were Daleks and Cybermen," Ianto said, his voice unsteady. He shook his head and took a deep breath. "I had to save Lisa and I knew I could do that at Three. We all knew what Harkness was like. I knew sex was my way in. So I wore a tight suit and flirted. I kept Harkness close enough to think he had a shot but far enough away so that he'd enjoy the chase and it worked. Then it all went to shit and I realised there was nothing to save, that Lisa died the minute she'd been strapped into that conversion table," Ianto shook his head, trying to figure out how to put this story full of half truths to Brogen properly. "There I was, at rock bottom. I was weak, I was alone and he was there. I think he liked it, me never having done a bloke before. That's how it started. It went on for years and I thought I loved him. I thought what we had was good and then one night a creature fell through the rift. Its claws were poisonous and it tore me up good and proper. I knew it was the end but I wasn't afraid. I'd always known Torchwood would kill me. I used my dying breath to tell Jack I loved him and he ignored me. When I came back, I found out the truth. I meant about as much to him as the PA's and research assistants he shagged at One. Fidelity isn't in the nature of Jack Harkness. When I found out he was fucking Cooper, I'd had enough. He let me walk away without retcon. I think it was guilt."

Brogen walked around the desk and put his hand on Ianto's shoulder. "Te absolvo a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. This is a fresh start, Jones."

Ianto nodded and sat down at the desk. He turned his attention back to his work. Brogen took the hint and left the room. He had to assume that he was being watched, that there was some sort of camera in the office. The story he'd told Brogen was mostly true, he'd mixed in all of his deepest insecurities to make the lies sound believable and now Ianto felt as if he'd prostituted himself. He wanted to run to the toilet and be sick. The stories, the friendliness were all a part of bonding with Brogen and getting him to trust him. It was essential but it made Ianto's blood boil and his stomach churn. He sat back and started to read, genuinely trying to work as a distraction. The more he found out about the operation the better, right?

When the scientists ordered lunch, they politely asked him if he'd like anything but Ianto had refused, unable to stomach the idea of food. He continued to read through the reports. Brogen was right, most of the tech was a dead end. Some of it was the old problem of 'fast, easy and cheap.' There were very few alien technologies that could be reverse engineered quickly and easily and cheaply. Brogen and Hastings seemed to prefer cheap and fast since their equipment and other resources limited what could easily be researched. The main problem appeared to be marketability. Sure you could find out how something ticked but could they turn it around and create something marketable out of it? Not in most of the cases. No wonder Brogen and Hastings had pounced on him. They needed new sources of alien tech.

Yesterday, he'd received several coded messages from Fish stating that, as far as they could tell, Brogen and Hastings were alone in their conspiracy except for the scientists working for them. Ianto didn't really blame the scientists. Brogen and Hastings had lied to every single one of them and they believed they were serving their country. This was only his first day but Ianto was as observant as ever. He saw the contempt most of the employees had for Hastings and the fear they had for Brogen. Ianto had tried to move about the place as silently as possible, catching snatches of whispered conversation. What had disturbed Ianto the most were the few hushed words he'd heard about the disappearance of one of the young scientists, a young woman who had refused Brogen's sexual overtures. When all this was over Ianto would do everything in his power to see that the scientists were dealt with leniently and, more importantly, he wanted to watch as Miranda took Brogen's head.

Halfway through the afternoon, Ianto realised there was something to what Brogen had said earlier in the day. He should take Miranda out somewhere. It was what people did, wasn't it? You start a better job, you splurge, right? He started calling around to a number of posh restaurants, seeing where he could find a booking for two. It was the middle of the week so it didn't take him long. It was nearly end of the business day when he was done. He didn't see any harm in knocking off a bit early. He got up and packed away his laptop. He settled the bag over his shoulder and walked out of his office. He knocked on Brogen's door.

"What?"

"It's me, Carl," Ianto said.

"It's open, Jones," Brogen shouted.

Ianto opened the door and stepped into the room. A positively terrified looking young woman bolted past him, nearly knocking him over. Ianto swore he heard a sob. When Ianto turned, Brogen was tucking himself back into his trousers.

"Didn't mean to interrupt," Ianto said, trying to avert his eyes. This was the second time today that Ianto had had to stop himself from throttling Brogen senseless. Sexually harassing the staff was one thing but this?

"Not at all," Brogen said. "Did you want a turn with her? A whore is a whore is a whore, you know…"

Ianto swallowed the bile in his throat. He ignored Brogen's comment and said, "I'm going to knock off. I thought about what you said and I think I will take Mandy out tonight."

"Go, enjoy yourself," Brogen said. He sat back in his desk chair. He tossed a folder in Ianto's direction. "The real work starts after we get the tech from Three. I would've liked to have you there with me but Lance there's some such meeting down in Sutton. He wants you along on it. That's all the particulars."

Ianto picked up the folder and started reading. It was a sales meeting. Hector Woodon Industries was selling another piece of technology. Ianto nodded and tucked the folder under his arm. He turned to leave, not wanting to spend any more time in Brogen's presence than required. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, Carl."

"Night, Jones," Brogen called after him.

Ianto sent Duncan a text, telling him he needed to skip the sword lessons today. He sent Miranda a text, telling her to get ready for a spectacular night out. He made his way back to the flat but decided on a detour, a sudden idea coming to him. He took a taxi to the west side of the city and stopped at a jewelry shop. It took him far longer to select something suitable than he'd thought it would. After spending a ridiculous amount of money, Ianto made his way back to the flat.

By the time he was showered and dressed in one of his best suits, it was time for the two of them to leave. Miranda stepped out of the bedroom wearing a beautiful red dress, her high heels bringing her nearly even with his height. Her hair was swept back in a French twist. He'd never seen her look so lovely.

It was a proper date night and as Ianto helped Miranda into the taxi, he vowed to have more of these nights with Jack when he got back to Cardiff. They rode a taxi to the restaurant and went inside. It was crowded, surprising for the middle of the week, but the hostess led them to their reserved table. Miranda activated the noise killing mobile in her purse. The waiter took their orders and while they waited for their food and wine, Miranda turned to their mission.

"How was your first day, Ifan?" she asked.

"One minute, Mandy. Let's take a step back from the mission for a bit," he said. He reached into his suit jacket pocket and took out the wrapped box. He smiled and slid the box across the table.

Curious, she picked it up, turning it over in her hands. She slit the paper and tore it off, revealing the velvet box. "What's this?"

"Open it," he said, smiling wider.

When she opened it, her eyes widened. "Ifan…"

He'd forgotten the way a woman's face lit up at the sight of jewelry. It seemed something unique to the gender. He took the box from her, gently taking the necklace out. The pendant was a teardrop shaped diamond set in platinum and, at nearly a carat and a half, had cost him an obscene amount of money. He stood up as he unlatched the clasp. Standing behind her, he draped it around her neck. The absence of the bronze square around her throat had bothered him ever since they'd arrived in London. The clerk in the shop had shown him dozens of items but the moment he'd seen this, he'd decided it was perfect. There was a bit of guilt hanging over him as he fastened the clasp. The only thing that could come close to the expense and indulgence of this necklace had been the engagement ring he'd bought for Lisa. Miranda brought her hand up, feeling the cool metal against her skin. Ianto sat back down across from her, smiling at the diamond sparkling in the low light.

"At first, I thought it was the perfect idea for our cover. When I walked into the shop, I was planning on just buying something. I wasn't really going to bother trying to figure out what you'd fancy," Ianto said, a little embarrassed. "It was for our cover, so what did it matter?"

"You really know how to charm a girl, Ifan," Miranda giggled.

Ianto shrugged a bit. "The clerk was trying to help me and I told him I really had no idea. He kept me there for ages, asking me about you and showing me different pieces and then I realised that I actually did want to get you something nice."

"Pity it's bought and paid for with Brogen and Hastings's blood money," Miranda said, fingering the necklace.

"It's not. I paid for it myself," Ianto said. He held his hand up to forestall the objection she was forming. "I know. I'm in debt up over my eyes but I've thought a lot about what you said that first day in the gym. I don't know what I'll tell my family, if anything. But if I decide not to tell them, you're right, I do want them to have something and that something isn't going to magically appear. I'm going to have to accumulate it over time."

Ianto took a sip of his water before he continued. "This might not be the best time to bring it up but I've decided to take you up on your offer of a personal loan," he said. He held up his hand again. "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into because it's quite a bit of money, although I suspect you already know that."

"Around three hundred and fifty thousand in sterling," Miranda said, matter-of-factly.

"You've spoken with Mr. Meredith," Ianto said. There was no accusation, no anger. It was just a flat statement but Miranda still felt Ianto was a bit annoyed.

"In the beginning, when we were trying to clear you, Ifan. Please, don't think I was being nosy," she said.

Ianto took another sip of his water before continuing. "I worked it all out. If I pay you one hundred and fifty pounds a month for the next two hundred and fifty years, that will cover my debt and give you twenty five percent interest on the principal. And before you go saying you won't accept the interest from me, Mandy, it's non-negotiable."

"Ten percent," Miranda countered.

_Does the woman not know the meaning of 'non-negotiable'? _"Twenty five," Ianto said

"Fifteen," Miranda countered again.

"Twenty five," Ianto repeated.

Miranda decided to acquiesce. She let out a frustrated sigh. "Fine, twenty five. Have it your way."

"I will, thanks," Ianto said. He smiled at her and gave her a small wink. He took another sip from his water glass. "Anyway, I can't remember the last time I splurged. I paid for the necklace out of my savings."

"Ifan…"

"Oh, leave off, Mandy," Ianto said. He took her hand in his. "You've done a lot for me. I don't just mean the sword training and the lessons. You've always been there for me and for Jack. You're my best friend and I love you."

"And I you. Thank you, Ifan," she said softly, fingering the necklace.

He kissed the back of her hand. "You're welcome."

The waiter appeared with their wine. He smiled at Miranda and winked, saying softly, "That one's a keeper."

Miranda giggled and thanked him. Just as he finished pouring the wine, their food arrived and he laid their meals out in front of them. He winked at her again as he walked off, leaving the 'happy couple' to their meal. Ianto and Miranda both smiled at each other.

Sobering, Miranda turned their conversation serious again. "You're still confident?"

Ianto sighed and nodded. "Very. They both trust me. Brogen wants to take a look at the storage unit day after tomorrow, take a few of the scientists with him and clear it out," he said, cutting a piece off of his swordfish steak. "He has me going to a sales meeting with Hastings."

"This may work to our advantage," Miranda said, brightly. She pointed at Ianto's fish with her fork. "May I?"

Ianto nodded and cut a piece off of his swordfish. He was about to drop the piece onto her plate but remembered their ruse. He leaned across the table to feed it to her off his fork. He said, "I was thinking the same thing. Instead of doing the takedown at Canary Wharf, we switch it to the storage unit. It'll be closer to Torchwood's jurisdiction and it separates Brogen from the others for us."

"Agreed," she said. She cut a piece off of her lamb chop and held it out for him. He smiled and ate the piece off her fork and then stole a potato off of her plate. "The situation's ideal. You can arrest Hastings on your own and UNIT can take care of the clean up at Canary Wharf when our loose end is tied up."

Ianto nodded. "I've put out a memo that we need all staff in on Friday, exactly at nine so that the cataloging of the 'new tech' can be done. It'll make it easier for UNIT to round them all up properly. I want them dealt with leniently, Mandy."

"They're engaging in black market activities involving alien technologies, Ifan. You know the penalty," Miranda said, sipping her wine.

"I know, Mandy - UNIT prison for life, no trial. But Brogen and Hastings have been lying to them. They've no idea what's going on. They think they're working for Torchwood, serving their country," Ianto protested.

"You've only been there a day, Ifan. Not all of them may be as ignorant as you believe," Miranda pointed out. "They should be lucky they're not actually Torchwood employees, then the penalty would be death or retcon."

"All I'm asking is that they're not just clapped in irons and hauled away. I don't think they should be punished for being well intentioned," Ianto said.

"I'll see what Jack and I can do, Ifan," Miranda said. "Since the Brigadier's death, we've little influence in the agency."

"I appreciate it, Mandy," Ianto said. He stole another potato off her plate. "We need to get the change of plan to Jack."

"I'll relay the information through Methos," she said. She took another large sip off her wine glass. "If the information gets to them tomorrow, it gives them a whole day to arrange the sting at the storage unit."

"When you do, ask Fish to look into a woman named Bethany Howe. I think Brogen may have killed her. I heard some of the scientists talking about how Brogen made some rather strong sexual advances on her. She brushed him off and told some of her coworkers she was going to the authorities if it continued and then never showed up for work again. Then, when I was leaving, Brogen had one of the research assistants in his office. She was terrified and crying."

Miranda shook her head and took a healthy sip off her wine glass. "I'm going to enjoy killing this man."

"She was so afraid, Mandy," Ianto said, angrily. "I wish I could kill Brogen myself."

"That would be most unwise, Ifan," Miranda warned. "Don't be so eager to get on the scoreboard."

"Duncan said the same thing and I'm not," Ianto sighed, wiping his mouth. "I just… he makes me so angry."

Miranda reached across the table for Ianto's hand. "I know, Ifan. Let's forget about the mission for a bit, all right?"

Ianto nodded and they smiled at each other. They turned the conversation away from work as they continued to eat. They ordered a dessert of mixed berries and cream. Miranda fed Ianto a few blueberries off of her spoon. Their meal finished, Ianto paid and helped Miranda into her coat. The two of them left the restaurant and returned to the flat.

Tonight, Ianto didn't care there were cameras watching them. He didn't care about anything as they tumbled onto the bed together. He took his time, exploring every inch of her skin with his hands and mouth. He made love to her slowly, relishing what might be his last time with her for a long while. He tried to memorize every smell and taste. He knew how Miranda felt about this ruse. As her student, she felt that Ianto had no place in her bed.

Years ago, Ianto would never have dreamed of a 'friends with benefits' arrangement. He also would never have considered a sexual encounter with someone else while he was in a committed relationship. Over the years, Jack had influenced Ianto's views on sex and love. At first glance, Jack's flirtatious attitudes and open mindedness appeared to be some sort of sexual free for all but that was hardly the case. Jack had taught Ianto that sex and love were complicated, that they were deeply steeped in an elaborate tangle of emotion and human need that went way beyond simple sexual satisfaction. It wasn't just about expressing romantic love to a committed partner. It could be about thousands upon thousands of other things.

Tonight, it was about connecting with his friend, showing her how much he appreciated her. The circumstances weren't ideal and their physical relationship hadn't started the way Ianto would have wanted but sleeping with Miranda had added a wonderful new dimension to their friendship. He loved the small gasps she made as he touched her, how her nails dug into his arms when he entered her.

Each thrust was slow and Ianto buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent. When he'd first met her, he'd thought the jasmine and woodsmoke scent that hung about her was a perfume, but it was pure Miranda. He stared into the honey rings around the lust blow pupils before he kissed her, long and deep. He could feel her belly quivering against him and he switched his angle, thrusting into her deep the way he knew she liked it when she was about to come. It was the part he liked best, watching her eyes widen and then slam shut. Her hands usually twisted in the sheets next to her head, thrown to the side. The sound coming from her open mouth pure ecstasy. The pulsing of her walls around him and the gush of moisture nearly sent him over the edge with her but he slowed, holding back. He wanted her to come again.

He sat up, pulling her up with him so that she was in his lap. It was the position he enjoyed with her the most, being able to wrap his arms around her and hold her close. He loved the feel of her breasts pressed into his chest. She was whispering into his ear, his name and words he didn't understand. He continued to snap his hips, thrusting into her from below and he could feel her belly quivering again. He sped up, pushing into her harder and faster.

Simultaneously, the two of them shouted their release. Ianto felt Miranda's nails digging into his back and he shouted into her neck. They collapsed in each other's arms, spent. Miranda arranged herself next to him, ignoring the stickiness. Ianto wrapped his arms around her and looked down. He could see her small smile in the low light, the necklace sparkling, as she ran her fingertips through the hair on his chest. He wanted to talk to her but he didn't want to get up so they could speak safely out on the balcony. He twisted his head and saw his mobile on his bedside table. He reached for it and activated its noise killing feature.

"Can we talk, Mandy?" Ianto asked, tossing his mobile onto the blanket.

She went to sit up but saw the phone. "That's most unwise, Ifan. Just because we are nearing our goal doesn't mean we should become sloppy. If they see us talking but can't hear us on the camera-"

"They'll assume we're speaking too low for them to hear," Ianto said. He tightened his arms around her. "Brogen and Hastings trust me now just… just lay back down. Please?"

She hesitated for a minute and then settled back against him. She went back to running her fingertips through the hair on his chest.

"I want to talk about us, Mandy," he said, softly.

"There is no 'us', Ifan," she said, gently. She rolled her eyes. That was why he didn't want to take this conversation to the balcony. He thought laying in bed with him while discussing this subject would make her more agreeable to it… and he was right. Breathing in the scent of his aftershave with her cheek against his chest? Feeling his comforting arms around her, his warmth? Yes, their ruse was taxing but these nights with Ianto had been wonderful. She was not looking forward to being alone again. It was when her relationship with Nora had ended that Miranda had realised how truly lonely she'd been. Now that she was sharing Ianto's bed, that wound was ripped wide open again.

"Do you think we could make this work? You, me and Jack?" Ianto asked.

"No and neither do you, Ifan. You're my friend, that's all," she said. She slid her hand across his chest, hugging him a bit. "While I have thoroughly enjoyed sharing a bed with you, you've seen how forced all this couple nonsense has been for us. That aside, you've also seen the daft way Jack and I behave around each other. You've been with Jack too long. Triads may be common in his time, but I find the idea of them ridiculous outside of the bedroom. A relationship involving two people is complex enough without adding a third. I find one other person quite enough to deal with."

"You know you're welcome in our bed any time, Mandy," Ianto said, extending the invitation for what felt like the thousandth time.

"Ifan…"

"We've never really talked about it, Mandy. You've just said no and Jack and I have left it at that but I do want to know why. You know you're not stepping between us. You've slept with Jack-"

"That was that blasted parasite, Ifan," Miranda interrupted.

Ianto continued to speak over her, "-and now you've slept with me. What is so wrong about the two of us together? Or separately for that matter?"

"We've been over this, Ifan. When we return to Cardiff you will return to being my student," she said. She threw her leg over his. "This is highly inappropriate behavior between student and teacher."

"You're telling me you've never slept with one of your students," Ianto said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Not while training them, no," she said. She turned her head and kissed his shoulder, nuzzling the tip of her nose against the skin.

"Why?" Ianto asked. "And don't tell me because isn't appropriate. I want to know why you don't think it's appropriate."

"I can't train you if I don't maintain a respectable amount of authority and distance from you," she supplied.

"Which you already do at work," Ianto countered, feeling as if he was stating the obvious. "You're second-in-command. You're my superior. You already compartmentalise our friendship in the Hub. Why can't you do it in the gym, too?"

At that, Miranda inwardly cursed Ianto's perceptiveness. She sighed heavily, resting her chin on his chest so she could look at him. "That is a difficult truth, Ifan."

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want the truth, Mandy," he insisted.

_Time to come clean…_ "It isn't about separating our friendship from our work or my place as your teacher," she said softly, sliding on top of him and straddling his hips. "It is about distancing myself from you. I could easily fall in love with you. It's not the nature of my love for you now but I recognise the potential. You are not mine. You belong to Jack and so I keep my distance from you as much as I can to keep my love for you platonic." She pushed back, feeling him hardening as she slid her moist sex along his. "Do you feel that, Ifan? This? This intimacy can quickly change things without either of us realising."

"Mandy…" he whispered. He gasped as she slid him back inside her. He griped her arms, his eyes rolling back into his head. He was going to miss this - the wetness, the heat, the feel of her.

She sat up, throwing her head back and Ianto watched her hair cascade around her face. _She's so beautiful…_ He reached up, running his hands over her breasts and settling them on her hips. He thrust up into her from below, meeting her as she ground her hips down onto him. Neither of them noticed that Ianto's mobile had fallen off the bed, hitting the carpet with a barely audible clack.

Ianto bent his knees and rolled his hips changing his angle and Miranda screamed. Her head lolled to one side and the tenor of her moans changed, the pitch lowering. He could feel her belly quivering under his hands again. He drove up into her harder. Her back arched and her head flew back as she came hard. The waves of her contracting around him sent him over the edge with her and he pulled down on her hips, emptying himself into her as deeply as he could.

He gathered her into his arms, still inside of her. He kissed the top of her head. "I'm going to miss this."

"Being with a woman?" Miranda asked softly, even though she knew that wasn't what he meant.

"You know better. I know I've said this before, Mandy but we're worried about you."

"Ifan-" she warned but Ianto interrupted her.

"You don't need to be so defensive, Mandy," Ianto said softly. He ran his fingers through her hair. He tilted his hips so that his softening cock wouldn't slip out of her. "You may be fooling Gwen and Fish but that's just because they don't live at the Hub. I remember that day you walked into Jack's office and told him you'd be staying on. You were happy and you were happy up until the moment Nora walked out of your life. I know you've said you've done this before and that isolating yourself like this is what works for you but it's not working this time. You're still lonely. You wouldn't have fallen into bed with Ethan Donovan if you weren't."

"Now wait a minute-"

Ianto interrupted her again. "That man was not your type, Mandy. At all. You were fucking him because he was safe and convenient."

Miranda didn't answer him. She continued running her fingertips through the hair on his chest. He had a point. Donovan was not the sort of man that excited or attracted her. Yes, he was a handsome and kind man but he was little more than a boring and mundane bureaucrat.

"Maybe it's time to try something different, yeah? Let Jack and I help. I understand your reasons for not wanting to keep this going when we get home but if you don't want sex, fine, we can just sleep. Jack and I almost royally cocked everything up because the two of us were too busy worrying about what could happen someday. It's what you're doing here, Mandy. How about we cross the bridge if we come to it? I'm not saying this is going to ruin our friendship either way but I'm not ready to give this up yet and I don't think you are either."

"I know you and Jack are well intentioned, Ifan," Miranda said, rolling off of him. She settled next to him, content in his arms. "I'll think about it."

"That's all I ask," Ianto said, softly. "I love you, Mandy. We both do."

"I know, Ifan," Miranda said, sleepily. "Get some sleep, you have to be up early tomorrow."

"So do you," Ianto said, kissing her head, gently.

The two of them slowly drifted off to sleep in each other's arms at the same time Carl Brogen stabbed the pause button on his laptop. He had trusted Ianto Jones but that didn't mean he still wouldn't have a quick wank watching him and his little tart fuck. She did have such lovely tits.

Now, he'd learned that Ianto Jones and Miranda Ryan were not as they appeared. Hastings, that sniveling little twat, had been right after all. They were both Harkness's lackeys. Oh, he'd been brilliantly played, he had to give them that. His revenge would have to be proportional. He couldn't go to the storage unit now. No, no. That had to be some sort of trap. He'd send Hastings instead and that was when he would strike. He'd spend tomorrow planning it all out. Sure, he could pounce on them now, but he had time and patience.

People thought that being immortal meant that you had plenty of time to waste but Carl Brogen had found that that wasn't true, not precisely. You didn't have oodles of time to wile away, it was more that you learned how to manage your time better. You learned how to plan, truly plan, for the long term. And when you were immortal, 'long term' took on a whole new meaning. One of the things being immortal taught was patience and it was a lesson Carl Brogen learned well. He'd wait, he'd pounce when the time was right and the revenge he would exact upon Harkness's catamite through that Chink whore would be exquisite. He'd make Ianto watch every second of course. He smiled a bit as he thought of the delightful screams he might be able to coax from that pretty little mouth of hers. The only decision he couldn't make was whether or not he'd kill her while he fucked her or afterwards. Ah, well, he'd decide eventually.


	27. Chapter 27

Methos strummed his fingers on the Tourist Office counter and sighed in frustration. This was the second time he'd returned to Cardiff, leaving Miranda unwatched and vulnerable. She'd bumped into him outside the hospital. With a sleight of hand, she'd dropped the flash drive into his pocket and quickly muttered instructions. Methos was beginning to feel a bit like an errand boy but he'd left London nonetheless. He'd sent Jack a quick text to know to expect him but hadn't received an answer.

Even without a response, he'd boarded the train and gotten to Cardiff around lunch. He'd been standing in the Tourist Office for little over an hour now. He'd called Jack's mobile twice and had been intermittently throwing balled up leaflets at the camera with no success. He didn't have time for this but Miranda had made it clear that this information needed to get into Jack's hands today.

With another huffed sigh, Methos circled around the counter and started to snoop. It didn't take him long to locate the black button on the blue plate. The sound of gears and hinges brought his head up. The wall with a metal leaflet display and the fire extinguisher was swinging open. _How ridiculous…_ he thought. He reached behind his back and took his gun out of the waistband of his jeans. He chambered the first round and stepped through into the stone hallway. The corridor was dusty and there were cobwebs on the florescent lights. There was a doorway at the end of the hall and Methos walked down towards it. There were were no buttons but just as he was about to turn away back towards the Tourist Office to search for another button, the door opened. It was a lift.

Methos stepped into the lift but there was no panel or buttons to control it. The doors shut automatically and the lift began to descend. It just moved on its own. The lift opened to his right and Methos saw a large cog wheel door. Again, he began to wonder if his ex-wife had developed a taste for practical jokes. There was a staircase that went up on his left but he walked past it, assuming it led back upstairs. He walked right up to the cog wheel door.

On his left was a number panel and keyhole. He had neither a code nor a key. The door was thick, heavy steel. The only way through it was with explosives and possibly not even then. He cupped his hands and looked through the window. He saw bars and what looked like the base of the water tower. There were a few computers in the background but Methos couldn't see anyone. Frustrated, he turned back to the staircase and started to climb upwards.

It led to a small room, barely larger than broom cupboard with a beaded curtain. He muttered an ancient curse. He'd just gone round in a big circle. He stepped out through the beaded curtain back into the Tourist Office and sighed. He hopped up onto the counter and continued to wait. He took out his mobile and tried Jack again and got the answer phone… again. This time, Methos left a more strongly worded message. He sent several texts to Duncan, letting him know that he would be significantly delayed returning to London.

He'd been sitting on the counter for at least another hour before the panel with the fire extinguisher opened. It was Jack Harkness.

"Well, it's about bloody time. I've been here since before noon," Methos said, sharply.

"Unavoidable," Jack said. The whole team had been running non-stop since before dawn.

Methos tossed the flash drive onto the counter. "She sent me with that. She said it's time sensitive or I wouldn't have waited."

Jack picked the drive up, turning over in his hands. "She's okay? Ianto?"

"For now," Methos said, impatient. He'd quite a chance to think while he'd waited and Methos couldn't help but wonder more about this enigmatic man. He needed to get back to London but it was doubtful he'd get the chance to ask these questions again. "You're not one of us."

"No," Jack said flatly. He crossed his arms over his chest and jutted out his chin.

"She calls you husband. Mao-Lin is quite selective about that sort of thing," Methos said, inclining his head slightly. He recited, "'Together with their friends, Miss Wilhelmina Cho and Lieutenant Jack Harkness request the honour of your presence at the celebration of their marriage.' You'll forgive me, I don't remember the precise date."

"Saturday, 19 June, 1920," Jack said, automatically.

"Nearly a hundred years ago. You're remarkably well preserved for someone who's head I shouldn't be interested in cutting off," Methos remarked.

"I use sunscreen and eat a lot of vegetables," Jack said, flatly.

Methos laughed at that. "Your secrets are your own, Harkness. I have no interest in them, truly, but you should be wary. If I have noticed something amiss others of our kind could notice as well."

"I'm not so easy to get rid of," Jack assured him.

"That impressive jawline aside, Harkness, my concern is not for you," Methos said, seriously. "Attention on you is attention on Mao-Lin and your young Mr. Jones. Any of our kind who come in pursuit of a nonexistent immortal will find two genuine ones in your place."

Jack nodded. It wasn't a possibility he'd considered yet but there was nothing to be done about it now. He'd talk to Miranda about it when she got back. Right now, they had more immediate concerns.

"I understand," was all he said to Methos.

Methos nodded in reply and turned towards the doorway but Jack had a question of his own.

"Why are you doing this for her?" Jack asked. "It's not just because you love her."

"One of a thousand regrets," Methos said, sadly. He left without another word.

Jack turned the flash drive over in his fingers. With a sad sigh, he pocketed the drive and headed back towards the lift. He kept his arms crossed over his chest and tucked in his chin, thinking deeply as the lift descended. He'd never pried into Miranda's affairs or history. He'd never asked questions about her past. He'd always told himself that it didn't matter. Miranda's past was her own. If she wanted to share it with him, she would do so but she never had so he'd never asked. Meeting this immortal man who Miranda called husband was bringing up a lot of strange questions in Jack's mind. He'd already asked her once why she continued to return to Torchwood and to him and the answer he'd received was vague, as it always was. Maybe it was time he started asking more questions.

He strode across the main Hub and into his office, plugging the drive into his laptop as he sat down. He read through the hastily composed document twice. _Not good…_ He tapped his comm unit. Everyone should be at the Hub.

"Team meeting everyone. Now," he said, pushing off from his desk. He stood up and headed for the boardroom at a jog.

"What's going on, Jack?" Gwen asked, sitting down.

Jack dropped the flash drive onto the table. "Will sent that through her friend. Ianto started work yesterday and Brogen showed interest in one of the storage units."

"That's what we wanted isn't it, Jack?" Martha asked from the foot of the table. "We figured they'd want to get at it all."

"It is… but Brogen wants to inspect and empty the units tomorrow. It doesn't leave us a lot of time so we need to be ready," Jack said. "Fish, can you bring up a layout of the storage facility? Give us an idea of what we're talking about here?"

Fish tapped the tablet in front of him, bringing up the image on the large overhead screen. He got up from his seat to point as he spoke.

"Ianto and I set everything up. The two storage units are here and here. They're full of empty containment boxes. Not full to the top, mind, just enough to make them look convincing. We have no real way of knowing which unit they'll go for first, so we'll have to watch both of them."

Gwen tilted her head, examining the layout. "We're not going to be able to watch them both properly without being seen. Not in the day."

"We won't have to," Mickey said. "They've got to open them don't they? We can be waiting inside."

"I don't like it. We'd have to split into two groups," Jack said.

Fish looked at Jack. "I can ask Henry, Jack. He's helped us before."

"Brogen's an immortal of the Game, Fish. He could sense Henry and blow our cover," Jack said, squashing the idea immediately. "We'll have to make do. We still need someone on the outside, watching to relay intel. We won't have our equipment. Once we know which storage unit they're heading for, the other team can leave their unit and surround them."

"Using Henry might be too risky there, Jack. We don't know the range on this buzz feeling Miranda gets. If Brogen gets too close, we'd have the same problem. Rhys could sit by the entrance in one of the lorries from Harwood's," Gwen said. "He could radio us with when and how many. He wouldn't be in any danger. They'd just think him any old sort of lorry driver dropping off cargo."

Jack pressed his lips into a thin line. He needed to step up his efforts to find a sixth team member. Rhys and Henry volunteering was all fine and good but it was occurring too often for Jack's taste.

"There's some camping gear somewhere down in one of the storerooms. Fish? You and Mickey get it loaded into the SUV We have no idea how early or late Brogen will be out there. We're going to need supplies and other necessities for the wait. And Fish? If you don't mind asking Henry to pack us all some food? Those sandwiches he made for us last time were great. Gwen, Rhys knows the drill. When you're all done, go home and get some sleep. We'll all meet back here at half four. I want us all in those storage units before the sun comes up."


	28. Chapter 28

Ianto was trying to enjoy the sunny drive back to the flat. Rather than subject himself to another trip to Canary Wharf, he'd decided to go back to the flat. This mission had been so taxing and had left him weary. He'd had enough. Now that the end was in sight, Ianto truly was trying to be happy and relax but anxiety about the takedown at the storage unit kept creeping into his mind.

The sales meeting had been a good distraction, especially since he'd had to handle it alone. At first, he'd been rather annoyed that Hastings had stood him up but if luck was with them, Hastings had been at the storage unit and was now in Torchwood custody. So, Ianto had conducted the meeting alone and had played his part well. The company was more than interested in what Hector Woodon industries had to offer. He'd really only done it to keep up appearances for the mission. If the meeting had gone poorly or Ianto had cocked it all up, the executive he'd met with could have phoned to complain to Brogen or Hastings or both. Ianto didn't want anything to possibly interrupt the takedown at the storage unit.

He hadn't heard from Jack yet and could only hope that everything had gone according to plan. Tomorrow, when the rest of the scientists and staff came in for work, UNIT would apprehend them. When he and Miranda were back in Cardiff, they'd all go out and celebrate properly, the whole team. Now that things were mended between him and Jack, Ianto had decided to go forward with his proposal. He'd already started planning the details in his head - _a picnic… chocolate cake… _

Just as Ianto was parking, his mobile began to ring. He'd hoped it was Jack with good news but he didn't recognise the number.

"Jones," he said, brightly.

"Well, well, well, Ianto Jones. You have been a naughty boy haven't you," Brogen sneered.

"Carl?" Ianto asked, trying to keep his voice light. At first, Ianto was confused but that was quickly replaced with alarm. Brogen shouldn't be phoning anyone!

"It was quite the little Christmas pageant you and Three put on. Cat's out of the bag, Jones, and now? Now, it's time to pay the piper," Brogen hissed.

"What are you talking about, Carl?" Ianto asked, feigning ignorance. He needed time to think. He had to figure out what had happened. What had gone wrong? No, that didn't matter right now. Right now he needed to figure out where Brogen was. Had Hastings eluded capture as well? Jack? What had happened to Jack? Or the others?

"YOU KNOW WHAT I'M FUCKING TALKING ABOUT!" Brogen screamed into the phone. "Was the thirty pieces of silver enough?"

Ianto decided to drop the pretense. "It's over, Carl."

"Oh, no. That's what you think. Your little friends at Three may have that twat Hastings but that doesn't matter, does it? Oh, no," Brogen said with a laugh. "That scrumptious little tart of yours? I'm going to use her up and send her back to you in little pieces, you sheep shagging Taffy!"

He disconnected the call and Ianto blanched. Brogen was still in London! Ianto put the car back into gear and sped off. He started to frantically dial Miranda's mobile as he drove, Jack Harkness style, to the hospital. The only saving grace was that Brogen was threatening Miranda's life, not her head. He still didn't know she was immortal but once Brogen got within range of her… he'd know.

Miranda's mobile went to the answer phone. _Bloody hell! Pick up the fucking phone, Mandy!_ He dialed again… and again… and again. He sent several texts trying to warn her. He even called the hospital itself but the nurse on duty told him that Miranda was with a patient. Frantic, Ianto finally activated the emergency program on his mobile. It sent a text to every member of the Torchwood team back in Cardiff saying that their cover was blown and told them to move in. When he pulled up outside of the A&E, Ianto didn't even bother parking properly. He yanked up the brake and got out without even turning off the engine.

He started jogging towards the A&E and caught sight of a black van around the ambulance bay. He shouted as he saw a man loading an unconscious Miranda into the back. He didn't even stop to think how anyone could overpower Miranda Ryan let alone just one man. He ran towards them but he'd been so distracted, he hadn't seen the second man standing by the A&E doors. The unseen man ran up behind him and jammed the butt of his gun into Ianto's head. He crumped to the ground in a heap.

What their assailants didn't know was that across the street, Methos and Duncan were watching the scene unfold. Duncan had followed Ianto all morning and when he'd seen the young Welshman speed off from the flat, he'd known something was very, very wrong. He'd sent a text to Methos, asking him to meet him outside the hospital. It had been an unknown error on Duncan's part. If he'd left Methos in place, perhaps he could have intervened in her abduction. Now, it was far too late for them to do anything but watch, helplessly as Ianto and Miranda were loaded into the van and it drove away.

Duncan had no idea what to do next. He should follow them since he had no idea where they could possibly be headed. However, Methos, ever the strategist, took charge.

"We have to get back to their flat," Methos said. He jogged towards Ianto's still running car and got in. Duncan followed, settling behind the wheel.

"Are you insane? We have to follow them! We have no idea where they're going!" Duncan shouted, pointing in the direction the van had sped off.

"I do know where they're going," Methos said, plainly as Duncan put the car in gear. "There's a field box back at the flat - guns and ammunition. We should also collect their swords."

"We don't have time for that, Methos!" Duncan cried.

"To rush in unprepared is foolish, Mac! Brogen has no idea that Mao-Lin is immortal. Ianto's presence will mask hers. He won't take Ianto's head straight away. He will want to torment Ianto first-"

"And he'll use Mao-Lin to do it," Duncan finished.

"Mac, just drive."

The two immortals drove for the flat as fast as the London traffic would allow. It didn't take long for them to break into the building and then the flat. They immediately started to search for the field box, starting with the entryway cupboard. Duncan tossed the coats into the kitchen while Methos began searching the boxes on the cupboard floor. Tucked behind the hoover, Duncan saw the two cylindrical cases. He picked them both up and opened them - a Chinese jian and a longsword. He sighed with relief and then prodded Methos with his toe.

"Hurry," he hissed.

"Goddess below, how many shoe boxes does one woman need…" Methos muttered.

Methos must have tossed a dozen boxes aside. Finally, buried in the back behind a few more shoeboxes, Methos found the locked field box. It had a padlock on it.

"Can you pick that?" Duncan asked.

"Do I look like Amanda?" Methos snapped. He took his gun from the waistband of his jeans and smashed the lock with the butt.

"Methos! Hurry!" Duncan snapped in reply.

"Patience is a virtue," Methos muttered.

"Not right now it isn't!"

"Relax, Duncan. Brogen will take them back to Canary Wharf. He'll see it as some sort of irony," Methos said with an eye roll.

"You better be right about that. We don't have time to search the city!" Duncan said.

Methos was positive that was where they'd be. Well, he was reasonably certain…

He tossed aside the ruined lock and opened the box. There were some devices he didn't recognise but he did recognise the two pistols. He handed one to Duncan and then pocketed all the clips of ammunition. The gun was large and heavy and wasn't like any gun that Methos had ever seen.

"I like this gun…" Methos commented, turning the Torchwood sidearm in his hands.

"Admire it later," Duncan said. He grabbed Methos's arm and dragged him from the flat.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter warning: Graphic depiction of attempted rape.

Just as Methos and Duncan were leaving the flat, across the city on the twentieth floor of the old Torchwood Tower at Canary Wharf, Miranda Ryan let out a soft groan.

"Don't try and struggle," said a voice.

Miranda lifted her head. She was in what she assumed was Brogen's office at Canary Wharf. She was sitting in a wooden chair, her wrists were secured to the arms of the chair with handcuffs. She was still wearing her scrubs from work. Her memory was fuzzy. She'd been called in to examine a man with a cut on his head. It hadn't been deep but when she'd turned away to reach for an instrument, the man had jumped her. She vaguely remembered the prick of a needle in her neck. She looked around for the source of the voice and saw Carl Brogen. Unlike her, Ianto was restrained at the wrists and ankles. He was still unconscious.

She took a breath to calm her anger. Brogen wasn't aware she was immortal. Ianto's presence would be masking her own. Brogen had no idea who or what she was. He thought she was mortal, ignorant of aliens and Ianto's true nature. She needed to have him continue his assumptions.

"What… what do you want?" she asked, feigning fear. She didn't think it sounded very convincing. She'd never been a very good actress.

Brogen said, "Hartman always said you people at Three were half wits. Isn't this proof positive?"

Miranda wondered if she'd be able to make herself cry. _Probably not…_ "Three what? I don't know what you're talking about! Let us go… we won't tell anyone…"

Brogen strode forward with a gun in his hand. He grabbed a fistful of Miranda's hair and snapped her head back. When he pressed the gun to her temple, Miranda forced out the appropriate scream.

"DROP THE ACT!" Brogen shouted into her ear. He pointed the gun at Ianto. "I know you're Torchwood Three and when that sodomite wakes up, I'm going to let him watch while me and my friends over there use you till you're bloody jerky. Me first though, sloppy seconds and all that. I want him to hear every scream and, oh, I do know you're a screamer."

Brogen snickered and then whistled at one of the mercenaries who tossed him a buck knife. He waggled the knife a few inches in front of her face.

"Then I'm going to cut you, nice and slow, and then when you're dead, I'm going to start in on him," Brogen said slowly. He pointed the knife at Ianto's still unconscious form, slumped forward in the chair. He dropped his voice to a whisper so the mercenaries couldn't hear him. "I'm going to flay him alive; skin him like a piece of game I am. Then I'm going to let him heal and do it all over again until he begs me to take his head."

He ran the knife along her jaw. "When you're both dead, I'm going to cut the two of you into so many fucking pieces, Harkness is going to have to squeegee you out of the fucking carpet to put you into a drawer at Three."

Ianto let out a low groan and Brogen smiled. He crossed over to Ianto and slapped him hard across the cheek. Ianto's head snapped up and he looked around, his eyes widening when he saw Miranda restrained next to him.

"You bastard! Let her go!" Ianto shouted.

"Awake at last," Brogen said, spreading his arms. "'Have they not divided the prey? To every man a damsel or two…'"

Ianto started to struggle against the cuffs binding him to the chair, nearly tipping it. They needed to buy time. Ianto had no idea how long he'd been out but it had to have been long enough that the rest of the team would be here shortly. He knew that Miranda wasn't in any real danger, she could tear Brogen limb from limb.

"I swear to God, if you hurt her…" Ianto threatened.

"You'll what Jones? You're not in a position to make threats," Brogen said, drawing his sword from his coat. The other men looking confused by its appearance. He laid the blade against Ianto's neck. Ianto drew in a single breath, afraid. "'… and the city will be captured, the houses plundered… women ravished…'"

Miranda screamed and started to struggle. The cuffs holding her to the chair held firm but Ianto knew she was just trying to draw attention away from him to herself.

Brogen leaned in, whispering in Ianto's ear. "When I've used her up and left her an empty shell, I'll do the same to you."

He turned away from Ianto, leaning the blade against his desk. He drew his gun and pressed it to Miranda's head and then whistled. One of the mercenaries stepped forward, uncuffing Miranda from the chair and dragging her to her feet by her hair. They cuffed her arms behind her back.

"You bastard!" Ianto shouted.

"Now, now, keep quiet, Jones. We're getting acquainted here," Brogen sneered. He grabbed either side of the v-neck of her scrubs with both hands and yanked. The cloth gave way and Miranda let out the appropriate scream.

"Don't touch her!" Ianto snarled.

"Oh, don't worry, she's gotten the synopsis already. Don't want to spoil the plot for you," Brogen sneered. "Without giving too much away, the second part is where I knock your little tart's teeth out and shove my cock down her throat."

Ianto was yelling and cursing from where he was restrained. He'd struggled so much that he'd tipped his chair. He couldn't let this happen. Buying time or not, there was no way he'd sit here and watch while they assaulted her. He saw something shine on the floor by his hand… a paperclip. He caught Miranda's eye, glancing at the paperclip and back up at her. She knew what he needed. Time.

Miranda struggled and Brogen dug the gun into her head again, "Don't. Fucking. Move."

Brogen pushed Miranda onto the desk, face down. She could no longer see Ianto or whether his efforts to pick his handcuffs were successful. The men weren't paying attention to Ianto at all. They were focused on her prize.

She felt cold metal against her skin. Brogen was cutting off her clothing. She started to struggle. He grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her up and laying the knife against her throat.

"What the fuck did I say?" he said as he slammed her back down onto the table. Miranda pretended the move had stunned her.

The sound of the sniggering men and ripping cloth echoed in the room. Miranda couldn't turn her head and had no idea how much progress Ianto had made. She struggled, but not enough to incite Brogen's anger. He was certainly taking his time and that didn't bother Miranda one bit. By the time Brogen had stripped her down to her knickers, Ianto still wasn't free. Miranda bucked, struggling to delay further. Brogen picked up his gun and pressed the barrel to Miranda's leg and pulled the trigger. She screamed, blood trickling from the wound.

"Naughty, naughty," he said. "Now hold still."

The tip of the buck knife sliced Miranda's knickers from her and the ruined cloth dropped to the office rug. She was now completely nude, her hands cuffed behind her back. Miranda felt Brogen's cock sliding up and down the cleft of her arse. She shifted and saw the mercenaries fondling themselves through their jeans. She twisted under the guise of struggling again so she could catch a glimpse of Ianto. He was nearly free but there was no more time. She couldn't wait any longer. There was no way she would allow Brogen to assault her. The bullet was still lodged in her leg. It would take longer to heal than a through and through wound as the healing flesh pushed the bullet out. She didn't have time to wait for it to heal completely. It was nearly the right moment, the moment that would give Miranda the opportunity she needed. Brogen stepped back, lining himself up and Miranda brought the heel of her foot up, kicking Brogen square in the balls. With a howl, he fell backwards.

Miranda used the moment's distraction to jump off the desk. She dropped to a crouch and brought her cuffed hands under her buttocks, rolling forwards. Her hands now in front of her, she grabbed the gun off the desk, whirled and shot one of the mercenaries. The bullet landed square in his chest. She shifted her aim and shot the other mercenary in the chest as well. As they fell to the ground, Brogen was heading for the door, holding his trousers up with one hand. Miranda took careful aim and fired, the bullet ending up in his leg.

Nude, she strode over to him, limping a bit on her injured leg. She seized Brogen by the ankle and dragged him from the doorway. She fisted her hand in his hair, yanking his eyes level with the bullet wound in her leg. Fear blossomed in Brogen's eyes as he watched the wound heal itself and close, the bullet falling to the floor with a plink onto the carpet.

"A deadly error, Herr de Brugge. The Highlander is not the Welshman's teacher. I am. And I am not as honourable as he," Miranda said, pleased when Brogen blanched. She lifted the gun, pressed the barrel to Brogen's forehead and said, "There can be only one."

She pulled the trigger, killing him instantly. With cold precision, she walked over to the mercenaries and, after putting bullets between their eyes, located the key to the handcuffs. She uncuffed herself and then went to free Ianto. He had mostly freed himself already. She handed him the key and then crossed over to Brogen's corpse, turning the man over. Disgust filled her.

Initially, she'd intended to challenge Brogen properly, honourably. Now, the situation had changed. She and Ianto were alone, high above Canary Wharf in the old Torchwood Tower away from the prying eyes of the Watchers. This couldn't have worked out better if she'd planned it. Ianto could now take Brogen's head, earning his first quickening without the danger of a true challenge. With the Watchers ignorant of Ianto taking his place on the scoreboard and with a quickening already in his veins, Ianto would gain a slight edge when his training was complete. Yes, it was a bit underhanded - well a lot underhanded - but it didn't break the fundamental rules of the Game, merely bent some of the secondary ones. By taking Brogen's head now, they also lowered his chances of survival completely to zero. Miranda picked up Brogen's blade and tossed it in Ianto's direction. Ianto caught it by the hilt, staring at it dumbly.

"He's yours," Miranda said gesturing down at Brogen's prone body. "Time to get on the scoreboard, Ifan."

"He's dead and unarmed, Mandy," Ianto said, gaping at his teacher open mouthed.

"I told you, we cannot allow him to fall into UNIT hands," she insisted.

Ianto continued to gape at her. There had to be another way. It was one thing for Ianto or Miranda to face Brogen head on in a fair fight. It was an entirely different thing for Ianto to kill this unarmed and unconscious man. Ianto couldn't believe this was what things had become for him. Was Miranda really asking this of him? Was this some sort of test? He dropped the blade to the floor.

"No," he said. "I won't kill a man who can't defend himself."

"Fine," Miranda said. She walked over to him and picked the blade up off the floor. She raised it up over her head. He couldn't allow it. He reached out and grabbed her arm.

"Don't!" he said.

She shrugged him off, shoving him aside. "You dare interfere?"

"This isn't a challenge, Mandy! He's defenseless," he insisted. "Wait for him to revive and then challenge him!"

Her motivations that had roots in the Game, Ianto would never agree with. He was simply too young. He wouldn't understand. Her motivations that stemmed from their mission, those she could possibly get him to agree with.

"We don't have time for this, Ifan. We need to ensure that he has no chance for escape. His life _must_ end."

"You'd have his head in four seconds flat!" Ianto shouted over her.

"You do not know that. Do you know why I left Torchwood in aught five?" she asked.

"Jack interfered."

"Yes, do you know _why_ he interfered? Because fortune did not favour me that night. I slipped on a broken beer bottle. I lost my footing and the man I was fighting would have had me had Jack not intervened. Sometimes, Ifan, no matter how hard you train, no matter how careful you are, you still die! I cannot and will not give Carl Brogen a chance, however slim, to take my head, gain the quickening of a four thousand year old immortal and then vanish into the night!" she snapped and then turned away from her student, lifting the sword again. "This isn't an honourable way to kill but we have no choice."

Ianto bent down and picked the gun up off the floor. "There's always a choice, Mandy."

He lifted the gun, turned and aimed.

_"IANTO!"_ she screamed holding her hands out in front of her, reflexively. Ianto's bullet went through her right eye and blew out the back of her head. She fell to the floor in a heap but she would recovered quickly from a single gunshot wound to the head. He leaned over her. _I'm sorry…_ and emptied the entire clip into her chest and belly. The extra wounds would buy him more time.

Ianto bent and began searching Brogen's corpse, locating the man's car keys in his pocket. He cuffed Brogen's hands behind him and picked him up, slinging him over his shoulder, making sure to grab the sword as he left. He took the lift to the underground car park and started pressing the buttons on Brogen's key searching for his car. He heard the beep of the car alarm and swerved towards it, locating the car with ease. After securing Brogen into the passenger seat, he drove for the car park's exit. He'd have to stop across town at the flat for his own sword but he had no choice. Suddenly, he saw Duncan and Methos drive past him, entering the car park just as he was leaving… was that his car?

He slammed his hand into the horn and stopped the car. He got out, waving his arms. The other car screeched to a halt and the two other immortals got out.

"Ianto!" Duncan shouted as he jogged over to him. "What's happened? Where's Mao-Lin?"

"She's waiting to revive upstairs," he said. "The twentieth floor."

Methos was standing next to the car, his hand resting on the car's roof with a gun in it. Ianto recognised the weapon - a standard issue Torchwood sidearm. It was from the field box in their flat!

"Do you have my sword?" Ianto asked. He couldn't believe his luck.

Duncan nodded and jogged back towards the car. He opened the back seat revealing the two cylindrical cases. Ianto took out one of them and opened it. It was his longsword.

"See to Mandy. I have to take care of something," he said, vaguely.

"Ianto, don't do anything stupid," Methos said. "Your team is on their way."

"You talked to Jack?" Ianto asked.

Methos nodded. "I just spoke with him. He's on his way with the others. They should be here shortly."

Ianto swallowed on a dry throat. "Tell him I love him."

Without another word, he turned and ran for Brogen's car. The two other immortals caught sight of Brogen in the passenger seat.

"IANTO! DON'T!" Duncan and Methos both shouted simultaneously.

Ianto ignored them, got back into the car and sped off. Duncan got back into Ianto's car and was about to pursue him when Methos laid a hand on his arm.

"Mac, you can't," Methos said, sadly.

Duncan hit the steering wheel with his palms. "I know!"

With an angry sigh, he slammed his palms against the steering wheel again. After taking a few deep breaths, he drove across the car park towards the lifts. They parked the car and got out, taking the lift up to the correct floor. Duncan's breath was still heaving in anger the entire ride up. They bolted through the doors and started searching every room. They found Miranda quickly, laying on the floor in a pool of blood and brain. Methos bent down, gathering her nude body into his arms. The wounds had mostly healed. It wasn't much longer before Miranda convulsed and screamed. She flailed against Methos's arms.

"Mei-Xiu!" Methos shouted as he cradled her against him.

"Methos?" she gasped, turning. "Ifan? Where is he?"

"He's gone. I don't know where," Methos said.

"We have to follow him. He took Brogen. He's going to challenge him. He's not ready! He'll be killed!" she cried, trying to get to her feet.

Duncan removed his coat and held it out to her. "You can't interfere, Mao-Lin."

She rounded on him. Her voice was full of venom. "Do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do, Highlander!"

"It's against the rules, Mao-Lin," he said sadly. "Only one immortal may challenge another. Once the challenge has begun, another cannot interfere."

"He hasn't challenged him yet!" she bellowed.

"You know he is right, my darling," Methos said, sadly, "and by the time you get there, it will be too late and you would be forced to stand by and watch."

With a cry of rage, Miranda grabbed the chair Ianto had been restrained in and hurled it against the wall. She sank to her knees still screaming. She slammed her fists on the carpet, her chest heaving. The sound of footsteps reached their ears. All three immortals turned to the door.

"Tell me you sods are armed," she gasped, getting to her feet.

"What do you take me for?" Methos said with an eye roll. He tossed her a gun.

Miranda caught it and pointed it at the doorway. The door opened and there was no one.

"Ianto? Will? Don't shoot!" a tentative voice called out.

"Jack!" she cried. "It's safe. We're alone."

The entire team piled into the room behind Jack. Mickey and Martha both gaped at Miranda a bit. She bent down and picked up Duncan's coat and put it on.

"Where's Ianto?" Jack asked, his eyes frantically darting around the room.

"Jack…" Miranda started to say.

"WHERE IS HE?!" Jack snapped. He grabbed Miranda by the arms and shook her.

"He's not here, Jack," she said, softly.

"I can see that!" Jack shouted, waving his arm around the room.

"Your young Mr. Jones has done something rather foolish," Methos said, a smile on his face.

"METHOS!" Miranda snapped, her anger making her forget to use his alias. She started angrily hissing at him in some language that none of the others could understand.

"Captain Harkness? I'm Duncan MacLeod," Duncan said, stepping forward, trying to distract him.

"I don't care who you are. I want to know where Ianto is and I want to know now," Jack snapped as he opened up his wrist strap and tapped on the buttons. He was narrowing down Ianto's location.

"Jack, don't," Miranda pleaded, grabbing at Jack's arm. "He's challenged Brogen. You can't interfere! You promised, Jack!"

"Wrong, Will. I made that promise to you," Jack barked. He shook off Miranda's grip and started for the door.

"Jack, please!" Miranda begged, seizing Jack's arm. "You can't!"

Jack brought his fist up and it impacted squarely with her cheekbone again. She reeled backwards into Methos's arms. In a swirl of greatcoat, he was gone.


	30. Chapter 30

Ianto drove for the empty warehouse he and Duncan used to spar. It didn't take long. He dragged Brogen's body from the car and into the warehouse. He laid the man out on the floor and waited. Ianto sat there for a while, checking the edge of his sword. Brogen's own sword was behind him, laying across the wooden crate he was sitting on. Ianto didn't have to wait long. He suspected it would be any minute and it was. Brogen convulsed and gasped. He rolled onto all fours, coughing and hacking onto the dusty floor. He lifted his head and stared at Ianto.

"Well, isn't this a surprise," he said, wheezing. "You should have killed me back at Canary Wharf."

"A question of honour," Ianto said. He stood up and tossed Brogen's blade towards him. It skidded across the concrete, the scraping metal echoing in the large open space along with Brogen's laughter.

"Honour? Your precious honour is about to get you killed, boy." Brogen sneered, spitting on the ground as he got to his feet. His hand closed around his sword's grip. "'I come not to send peace, but a sword.'"

Ianto waited, giving Brogen plenty of time to collect himself and get to his feet. The man was unsteady as he took a few steps, breathing heavily. He'd gone through all this trouble to ensure a fair fight. He wasn't going to take advantage of Brogen's weakened state. So he stood and patiently waited, keeping a defensible distance between the two of them. Brogen leaned heavily against one of the crates, Ianto eyeing him carefully. It wasn't until Brogen suddenly lunged for him that Ianto realised the weakness was feigned. He barely dodged the attack in time. Ianto countered, swinging his own blade laterally. Brogen parried the blow and managed to draw first blood as he landed a solid punch to Ianto's face, splitting the Welshman's lip.

Ianto staggered back a little, spitting blood and Brogen took the opportunity, advancing on Ianto and swinging his own sword. Ianto was blocking and parrying, fighting mostly a defensive battle, barely keeping Brogen at bay. Brogen was a capable swordsman. He would've been no match for Duncan or Miranda but he was effectively kicking Ianto's arse six ways to Sunday. What made Ianto really angry was that Brogen was toying with him. The other immortal had bypassed several opportunities to seriously wound him. There was amusement all over his face and his laughter echoed over the sound of the swords. Brogen was drawing this out, making a fool out of him and clearly enjoying himself.

Brogen circled with a laugh and lunged for him. Ianto dodged and parried the blow, backing away. He cursed the move, he missed an opportunity to wound Brogen. He couldn't see a way to win this, Brogen was better than he was. Unless he fought really dirty or cheated, he would lose. Ianto lunged and made an error, over extending and leaving himself off balance. Brogen immediately capitalised on it. He dodged, twisting out of the way and brought his sword down in a hard arc that sliced deep into Ianto's side. Ianto screamed and fell, scrambling on all fours, dragging his sword until it finally fell from his weakened grip. Ianto collapsed on his stomach and rolled onto his back, blood seeping from between his fingers as he clutched at the wound. He looked down and saw the blood on his fingers was dark, almost black and that was not good. He removed his hand, to peek at the wound and bile rose in his throat when he saw mottled red tissue. Had Brogen lacerated his liver? Ianto didn't know and didn't have the time to probe the wound to find out. He couldn't tell if the wound was mortal or not but it hurt.

Brogen sauntered over to Ianto slowly. "Such a disappointment."

Ianto tried to crawl towards his sword but the blinding pain stopped him. He fell back, clutching his side and screamed. Brogen put his toe under Ianto's sword and kicked it away.

"'For all they that take the sword, shall perish with the sword'," he sneered.

Brogen was gloating and laughing. He lifted his blade. Ianto closed his eyes and filled his mind with a single thought.

_Jack._

The sound of metal rattling across the concrete made him open his eyes and whip his head around. His sword! It was practically in his hand! He grabbed the blade and made an adrenaline fueled surge upwards just in time, plunging the point into Brogen's belly.

Shocked, Brogen stared down, his eyes wide with surprise. Ianto twisted the blade and Brogen let out a cough and a gurgled shout that spattered his lips with blood, his own sword clattering to the ground. The adrenaline still singing in his veins, Ianto leapt to his feet.

"There can be only one!" he shouted. He yanked the blade back out and swung it, slicing Brogen's head from his body in one clean stroke.

Ianto's legs gave way and Brogen's headless body both collapsed down to the ground. Ianto was desperately trying to catch his breath. The pain in his side was excruciating but it was nothing compared to what followed. Brogen's body began to glow and rise off the ground, blood dripping from the headless neck. Then, the lightning began. He knew what was coming. He'd seen it happen before but seeing it was nothing compared to experiencing it. The lightning slammed into Ianto, blinding pain coursed through his body and ecstasy unlike any orgasm he had ever had. Ianto could feel himself, suddenly rock hard, his cock spasming and spurting into his pants. He was dimly aware of the sound of windows shattering. Sparks flew and the stench of ozone hung thick in the air. His body convulsed uncontrollably and every inch of his skin felt like it was on fire, equal parts pain and pleasure. And he screamed. He screamed so hard and so loud if he could have thought at that moment, he wouldn't have believed it was him making that sound. As quickly as it had begun, it was over and Ianto was flat on his back staring up at the metal ceiling of the warehouse. He sucked in huge gulps of air through his hoarse throat.

He tried to sit up, clutching at his side. The wound wasn't mortal after all, but it was healing slowly. He lifted his hand and was grateful all he saw was healing muscle. He tried to sit up but failed and then he heard the sound of booted feet. Every muscle in his body was twitching and he felt a wave of exhaustion come over him. His muscles still felt strange - twitchy and jerky.

"Ianto?" a voice said.

He couldn't lift his head but he didn't need to. He knew that voice and the sound of the booted feet that were coming towards him. The smell of fifty first century pheromones cut through the ozone.

"It was you," Ianto said, panting. "You threw me my sword."

Jack nodded and held out his hand. Ianto slapped it away and tried to get to his feet unassisted only to collapse again. When Jack grabbed him to help, Ianto shook him off. The pain in his side had lessened. He was panting, on all fours as he barked, "Don't!"

"Ianto-"

"NO, JACK!" Ianto shouted. "Don't you EVER do that again!"

"You think I should've just stood there and watched him kill you?!" Jack shouted back.

"YES!" Ianto screamed. The pain in his side was nearly gone.

"Well I couldn't!" Jack screamed defiantly.

"FUCK YOU!" Ianto snapped. He was finally able to get to his feet. The cold come in his pants was uncomfortably sticky. He rounded on Jack. "Do you have any idea what you've done?! Do you know what will happen to me if the others find out I'm a cheat?! Do you know what Mandy will do to me?!"

Jack retreated a few steps. "Will would never-"

"Yes, she would and I wouldn't blame her one bit! I'm NOT like you, Jack! WE'RE NOT LIKE YOU!" Ianto shouted in rage, shoving Jack so hard the other man stumbled and nearly fell.

"Ianto-"

"NO, JACK! This is _not_ a discussion! If you ever interfere again, we are over! FINISHED! DONE! FOREVER!" Ianto yelled. "Get the fuck away from me!"

Hurt and despair crossed Jack's face but he obeyed, leaving the warehouse with the door squealing shut behind him. Ianto stood there, staring at the door, trying to get a grip on the anger pounding in his ears. He felt strange. There was disgust and revulsion on the edge of the anger. He shook off the feeling. A sound made Ianto turn.

A tall Black man emerged from the shadows. He held out his hand to Ianto. "Shawn Graham."

Ianto grasped the hand. "Ianto Jones."

"I know," he said. "I'm your Watcher."

"I figured that," Ianto said sarcastically. "Where's everyone else?"

"I haven't called it in yet," Shawn said with a shrug.

"Well, what you fucking waiting for?" Ianto sneered, wiping his sword and walking away. He glanced down at Brogen's headless corpse and swallowed. Another strange impulse welled up in him - the urge to kneel and pray. He shook it off.

"I'm going to leave it out of the report…" Shawn said, loudly.

"Leave what out?" Ianto asked, impatient. He didn't turn around.

"Harkness. You're right, it would brand you a cheat and every immortal in a thousand miles would swoop down on you. You wouldn't last a month," Shawn said sadly. "Quid pro quo, Ianto."

"What do you want then?" he asked.

"Kiernan Davies's life," Shawn said.

"I'm not a threat to Kiernan," Ianto said, finally turning around to face the Watcher.

"No, but your teacher is," Shawn said as he took a few steps towards Ianto. "Kiernan knows the truth. MacLeod betrayed her so Kiernan would stop investigating his partner. When Chen finds out, Kiernan's next stop will be a slab."

"And what do you think I can do about that?" Ianto asked, loudly. He couldn't believe Duncan would do such a thing.

Shawn held up the voice recorder. "Kiernan recorded his conversation with MacLeod on this. He wanted me to use it as an insurance policy. If anything happened to him, I'm to give this to the right people in our organisation. I'm giving it to you."

Shawn tossed the recorder at Ianto and he caught it. He hit the play button.

"… Yi Anj was her teacher and then her first husband…" said the deep voice of Duncan MacLeod.

A whirl of emotions went through Ianto's mind but mostly he was angry and disappointed. He hadn't really believed Shawn but he had the proof right in his hands in Duncan's own voice.

"Chen Mao-Lin's chronicle stays as is. I turn a blind eye to your partner's involvement in all this… and Kiernan Davies lives," Shawn said.

"I'll do what I can. How do I know this is the only copy?" Ianto asked.

"My word, Ianto," Shawn said with a hard stare. He held out his hand.

Ianto nodded and shook Shawn's hand, again. "Are you coming back to Cardiff?"

"That's not for me to decide though I'd like to stick with you. You Torchwood lot certainly got me curious. A warning, Ianto?" Shawn said. He took out his mobile and tapped a few buttons. He put the phone back into his pocket and then waved at Brogen's headless corpse. "That right there was your diploma. You're in play right and proper now and you need to be careful. You can't claim to be Chen Mao-Lin's student if you're on the bloody scoreboard, mate."

The pieces started to slot together in his mind and as the realisation dawned on him, Ianto Jones felt like a complete and utter imbecile. The true reason Miranda wanted him to take Brogen's head at Torchwood Tower dawned on him. It wouldn't have mattered if she'd tried to explain. It wouldn't have changed what he'd done. He'd been so utterly thick. What was it that Fish was always muttering to himself? _Head in the Game, Jones…_

"I understand," Ianto said, stowing his sword in his coat. The sound of tyres and dirt spraying the metal walls of the warehouse reached his ears. _That was bloody fast…_

"You best get out of here, mate," Shawn said, jerking his head towards the sound. "They shouldn't see me talking to you."

Ianto nodded and slipped out the back entrance. He circled around the building towards his car. Now it was time to face an even bigger challenge - Miranda Ryan.


	31. Chapter 31

Miranda was sitting on the sofa when Ianto came through the door. She'd spoken with Jack and the poor man had confessed everything. Miranda had been disappointed and angry but there was nothing to be done about it now. Now, she needed to consider Ianto's safety. Once he was branded a cheat, he would be in grave danger especially since he was so new to the Game. He would be seen as an easy target. But right now Ianto Jones seemed to think he was in danger from her. He walked into the lounge with his sword in his hand.

"Put your blade away, Ianto Jones," she said, not turning towards him. "I'm not going to kill you."

Ianto was reluctant to lower his weapon. "You said-"

"What I meant was don't make a habit of it. Call this your mulligan," she said and stood up. "Go take a shower. We'll talk when you're finished."

He took a deep breath and laid his sword across the kitchen counter. Miranda picked it up and began to check the blade. The adrenaline was easing out of him and his arms were shaking slightly as he undressed. He tossed his ruined suit into the bin. His skin still felt wrong, hypersensitive and tingly as he stepped under the shower's hot spray. He felt energized yet exhausted. He wiped away the blood that had dried on his side and the come that had dried around his groin, grateful to get clean. He stood under the hot spray for some time, processing what he'd done. The shock finally wearing off a bit.

He'd killed. He'd taken a life. True, at its core, it was self defense but Ianto couldn't help but feel guilt. It wasn't just guilt about the life he'd taken, it was more about the underhanded way he'd done it. He'd thought he was finished but he hadn't wanted to die. When Jack had tossed him his sword, Ianto hadn't thought, he hadn't reasoned. He'd given into the basic impulse of all living things… survival. He stepped out of the shower and toweled himself off. He walked out into the bedroom with the towel around his waist. Miranda was sitting on the bed waiting for him. The room was dark. She didn't look at him as he sat down next to her. Ianto could feel that she was sitting there as Torchwood's second in command.

"I've spoken with Jack. I know everything," she said softly and then sighed. "We're unaware of what precisely blew our cover and I'm willing to bet it was our conversation in bed the night before last but that is neither here nor there now. As you have probably surmised, Lawrence Hastings was at the storage unit and not Carl Brogen. The rest of the team have transferred him into UNIT custody. UNIT will thoroughly question him and then he will be transferred to UNIT prison in the morning. As per your request, Jack and I have pulled as many strings as we possibly can. UNIT will be dealing with the scientists leniently. The plan for them to apprehend the rest of the staff in the morning is still in effect. Martha and Mickey will be supervising it so that you and I might return to Cardiff. Any of the staff who were unaware that Brogen and Hastings's operation was illegal will be questioned, retconned and then released."

There was a subtle change in Miranda, her body relaxed and, almost as if she'd changed clothes. Ianto felt her switch from Torchwood's second in command to his teacher.

"You've received your first quickening. I would've liked to have prepared you for the experience but that's neither here nor there now. The quickening is the driving force of the Game. It's what compels us to kill each other. The more heads you take, the stronger you become. The stronger you become, the better chance you have to survive but that is not the whole of it. Receiving a quickening is a unique experience that can't be described nor explained, it must be experienced first hand. The pain and the pleasure are unimaginable, as is the rush that accompanies it. There are many young immortals who become addicted to the experience. I'm not saying that will happen to you but I want you to be aware of its occurrence among our kind."

Miranda took a deep breath before continuing. She stood up and leaned against the dresser to face him, her arms crossed over her chest. "The main effect of the quickening is physical. Brogen was scarcely more than three hundred years old so the changes you will notice won't be as drastic as if you'd taken the head of someone older. You will notice a slight increase in physical strength and endurance and you will heal faster than you did before. There will be other differences.

"Carl Brogen's quickening was the sum of everything he was, the entirety of his life force and existence. You've absorbed it into you but this isn't like a comic book or a science fiction film. His consciousness is not floating about in your mind. A quickening is far more subtle. It embeds itself into the subconscious, existing below the surface. You may notice a slight influence, nothing more. Over the next few days, you may have strange thoughts, feelings or impulses that are not your own. It's important for you to distinguish them from your own heart and your own mind. When you recognise them for what they are, the strength of your own character and personality will win out over them. Over the next few weeks, you'll also experience a certain amount of deja vu. You may recognise a bit of song that you've never heard before or perhaps even understand a word or phrase in a language you've never learned. You may find memories on the tip of your tongue that are just out of your reach. Such memories may invade your dreams at night but all that will fade over the next few weeks."

Again, Miranda's body language changed and Ianto could feel not only a chill but disappointment settling around him. "I advised you to find your own code of honour within the Game, to find what is and what is not acceptable to you. I also cautioned you not to compromise your own survival or break the rules of engagement. And you have now done both."

"Mandy…"

"Do _not_ speak," she said, her voice like stone. Miranda crossed her arms over her chest and said to him, "Had we killed Carl Brogen at Canary Wharf, we could have avoided these complications."

Ianto felt like a child being scolded by a parent. He tried to speak up in his own defence, "I couldn't live-"

"You will find yourself very surprised at what a person can and cannot live with, Ianto Jones!" she interrupted, her voice practically thunderous. She dropped her voice back to normal and said, "And as it is, you may not live long now. When you're branded as a cheat, every immortal across Europe will descend for your head. I will try to intercept as many of those challenges as I can but it may be best for you to disappear, flee to holy ground for a time. I know it is not what you want to hear but it is best for your training as well. I do not like to train my students out in the open."

Ianto stood up and interrupted, "I talked to my Watcher, he's not putting it in the official report."

"At what price?" Miranda asked, skeptical.

Ianto went over to the bin. He'd forgotten to take the voice recorder out of his trouser pocket before he'd thrown his clothes away. He handed it to Miranda and she hit the play button. Duncan's deep voice filled the room.

"…After he was killed, she travelled south through what's now India and into Persia. That's where she met the Horsemen…" Miranda stabbed at the button, pausing the recording. She should be furious at Duncan for what he'd done but she wasn't. A strange sense of peace descended upon her.

"Shawn said Kiernan gave it to him as an insurance policy. If anything happened to Kiernan, Shawn was to give that to the proper Watcher authorities," Ianto said softly.

"But he gave this to you," Miranda pointed out.

Ianto nodded. "A bargaining chip. I don't think Kiernan knows about it. Your chronicle stays the same and Jack isn't mentioned in the official report of Brogen's death. In exchange, he wants you to spare Kiernan's life."

Miranda pocketed the voice recorder. "I never wanted to kill Kiernan. He might be naive but he's well intentioned and he didn't have any real evidence. Now he does, and my hands are tied."

She let out a sad laugh. Whatever her chronicle said, Miranda knew that once the cat was out of the bag, there was no putting it back. Whether the Watchers broadcasted the truth or not, it would slowly spread. Best that something good come from it. She turned and walked towards the bedroom door. "Neither here nor there. I'll meet with Kiernan when we return to Cardiff to accept this deal. My ruse couldn't last forever."

She stopped and leaned against the doorway. "Did you listen to it?"

"No," Ianto said. He'd been curious but he hadn't wanted to invade his friend's privacy. "I figured you'd tell me whatever you wanted to tell me in your own time, Mandy."

"I will… when we're both ready," she said. She sighed deeply. She crossed her arms over her belly and to Ianto it almost seemed like she was hugging herself. "I don't think I could stomach the tale tonight."

Ianto walked over to her and rubbed at her upper arms. He hung his head, ashamed. "You don't have to put yourself in danger for me."

Miranda lifted her head up, gaping at him. "Don't be a fool, Ifan. You're my student. You're my friend. And in any case, I'm capable of defending myself and in no more danger than I was before."

"But if the others find out your true age, your true identity-"

"My true identity is of little consequence. The name Yi Mei-Xiu has not been spoken in over a millennia. There may be a few immortals alive today who know the name outside of those I trust but they will be few and far between. My true age is another matter but there is nothing to be done."

"Why won't you let me face the consequences of my own actions?" Ianto asked, a bit angry.

"Because, Ifan, if it ever comes down to my head or yours, there is no question, in my mind, who's head should remain firmly attached," she snapped.

"Miranda!" Ianto shouted, shaking her a bit. "How can you say that?"

"First, I have nearly four thousand years on you and second, you don't know me, Ifan," she said, brandishing the recorder at him. She put it back into her pocket and scrubbed at her face with her hands.

"Whatever it is, Mandy, it's in the past and it's done," he pleaded. "You can't change it!"

"No, I can't. But I can spend the rest of my life trying to make amends," she said.

"Aren't you taking the Catholic guilt a little far, Mandy? We've all made mistakes," Ianto insisted. "You can't go through your entire life trying to make up for a few mistakes!"

Miranda sighed. Ianto had no idea what he was talking about.

"I'm sorry," Ianto said, brushing his hand down her face. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. "I'm sorry. You said you couldn't stomach it tonight and I'm not listening to you."

"I rarely have the stomach for it, Ifan. But you should know sooner rather than later," Miranda said, her voice sad. She heaved out a sigh and said softly, "You'll start to hate them."

"Who?"

"Mortals."

"What?" he asked, incredulously. She was reminding him of Carl Brogen and it frightened him a bit.

Miranda dropped her voice. It was filled with regret. "You won't at first but someday you will. Once everyone and everything you know has turned to dust, you will look around and the world will look nothing like what you once knew. The mind numbing sameness of it all will start to eat at you and that is when it will begin. First, you'll start to envy them, their mortality and the normalcy it brings, the children you can't have, the spouses you can't grow old with. Then they'll make you angry because they take that for granted. Then you'll start to hate them for it and that hate will grow and fester until, one day, you won't know how to do anything else and then the madness will set in. You die inside. You stop being able to feel anything at all, not joy or grief, not anger or passion. Nothing at all. And once that has happened you will understand."

Her face had a far off haunted look. Ianto didn't say anything. He wanted to hold her but didn't. He let go of her arms. What had happened to her? Was it just time? Ianto didn't know but he vowed he would never let himself get to the point where he found himself at whatever rock bottom Miranda had reached to make her speak like this.

"You're telling yourself right now that it won't happen to you, and I pray to the one true God that you're right. It is a terrible thing, to lose one's mind. It can drive us… It drove me to the unspeakable," she said sadly. She hit the button on the recorder and backed it up a few seconds. "Listen."

She hit the play button and Duncan's voice filled the room. "'…After he was killed, she travelled south through India and into Persia. That's where she met the Horsemen…'"

She hit the pause and looked at him. "Now, ask the question."

"Who were the Horsemen?" Ianto asked. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer now.

"Over three thousand years ago, I travelled with four immortal men. I was their sister, battle worn and blood stained, and I was their whore," Miranda said. There was a strange warmth underneath the hollow tone that Ianto recognised. It was nostalgia. He took a step back from her.

Miranda spoke as if recounting a happy memory or pleasant dream. "We rode out of the horizon, slaughtering on our whim. There was no one who could stand against us, mortal or immortal. We were beholden to no one, masters of our own fate. The world was what we made of it. We weren't just kings. We were _gods_. They called us the end of the world - the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and the Whore of Babylon."

Ianto couldn't believe the pride in her voice. He took another step back.

"I spent centuries with them and we killed thousands without discrimination against age or sex. I didn't do it for any of the ridiculous trifles like money or power or God," she said, continuing. A light smile came across her lips and it made Ianto's blood run cold. "I did it because I liked it."

Ianto took another step back from her. _Because it made me happy_… Gwen had said the cannibal had told her. Ianto felt like he was going to be sick.

"When mothers warned their children of the monsters that would steal them off in the night? They were talking about us. They were talking about _me_," she said. She shook her head, ruefully and then spoke with contempt. "Today, I am a doctor. I am Torchwood. I heal the sick. I protect the innocent but that is the woman I am now. Four thousand years ago? Mortals like Gwen and Fish? They were _nothing_ to me. Their lives were _nothing_. They were dust on my boots - pointless and pathetic."

He swallowed on a dry throat. His instincts were screaming at him to run away from this thing, this monster… but Ianto had called Jack 'monster' once.

"It's not who you are anymore, Mandy," he said, trying to reassure his friend. Had it been the death of her husband that had driven her to it all?

"No, it isn't who I am anymore and, yes, it was long ago… thousands of years… You ask me why, Ifan? Why I still think myself evil? Because I miss them. They were my brothers! We broke bread together in the day and we shared our beds at night and I miss them!" Miranda said, shaking her head.

And that Ianto understood a little but what Miranda said next that sickened him further.

"I can still hear it all if I close my eyes. I can hear the men screaming as they died - their anger and despair. I can hear the women crying as they were raped and their children killed in their arms. I can still smell the fear and the blood. There's still a part of me that feels the centuries I spent with them were the best of my life, that knows I will never again feel as alive as I did then," she said. She looked at him and Ianto finally saw shame. "And until that great evil in my heart is dead, I know I am wrong."

Miranda turned to leave and Ianto tried to stop her, "Mandy…"

She shook off his grasp and walked across the hallway, shutting herself in the guest bedroom. He didn't try to stop her. He tossed the towel into the washroom and then climbed into bed. He laid there a long time, unable to sleep. He spent the whole night thinking, turning over what Miranda had said to him.

Working for Torchwood gave one a unique perspective on life. When you know you'll only live a few years, you start to worry about different things and you priorities shift. Ianto had known Torchwood would kill him so why plan for a future you'll never have? So, he'd done what all of the dying did. He got his affairs in order. He saved as much money as he could for his niece and nephew to have when he was gone. He examined his life, found his regrets and tried to change them. He thought he'd done a pretty good job of it. He'd time coming to terms with his short life expectancy and he'd made peace with it. He had few regrets and tried not to accumulate any more. What had worried him the most was how Jack would handle his death. It had worried him more before he'd met Miranda but knowing that Jack would have her as either friend or lover after he was gone had made him feel a bit better about it.

The Game had upended just about everything in his life and Ianto had thought that that one worry would remain untouched. His death, either by Torchwood or another immortal, was the same thing wasn't it? Miranda had just driven the final nail into the coffin on Ianto's mortal life. Now, Ianto Jones wondered if his death would drive Jack insane… and he wondered if he'd eventually go insane himself.

Chapter note: I realize I've dicked around with some Highlander canon here. I never liked the dark quickening story line. In fact, I really really hated it. So I've fiddled with it a bit. The idea that the personalities and consciousnesses of every head an immortal had ever taken are just beneath the surface waiting to bubble up? And, cumulatively, the head of every immortal they'd ever taken? And back, and back, and back? Well, that'd be a lot of personalities floating around in your brain wouldn't it? It seemed a little unrealistic to me, psychologically. This is how all that sort of thing works in my head, what makes sense to me, personally. The idea that a quickening can suddenly tip some sort of scale in your head and one minute you're yourself and the next you're not made zero sense to me. Now what happened to Coltec made more sense to me - a slow corruption over time that then receives the proverbial 'last straw'. Do I buy that corruption moving into MacLeod when he killed Coltec? Not really, unless MacLeod was the same situation Coltec was, which, in my personal opinion, he wasn't. Yeah, he'd killed a bunch of evil hearted sons of bitches but he wasn't like Coltec… but that's my running theory for the dark quickening in my particular 'verse - that Duncan was on the edge and didn't know it.


	32. Chapter 32

The next morning, Ianto groggily wandered into the lounge. He hadn't slept one bit and Miranda didn't look like she'd slept either. He didn't say anything to her. He acted as if everything that had transpired the night before had never happened. All they wanted was to go home.

They were so desperate to get out of London and back to Cardiff that what they did could hardly be called packing. They filled their cases but didn't bother boxing most of the rest of their items. Whatever didn't fit into cases, they tossed into bin liners or just shoved into Ianto's car where they could find room. Whatever they felt they couldn't fit and felt they could replace, they left behind. The poor Audi was packed to the gills, barely leaving room for themselves. It was early evening by the time Ianto pulled into the Hub garage. The rest of the team had gone home and Ianto was glad no one was there. He'd seen Miranda texting on her phone as he drove and had no doubt that she was the reason there was no fanfare to greet them at their return. The mission had been a round about success but Ianto didn't feel like celebrating. To him it was bittersweet. There was too much heaviness in the air. He didn't even look at Miranda as they unloaded the car together.

Miranda finished rolling the last of her cases into her rooms. She'd unpack later. She sat down on her bed, wondering why there were feathers strew on her floor. She took the voice recorder out of her pocket and played the file from the beginning to end, listening carefully. It wasn't a surprise to her that Duncan hadn't given Kiernan the whole story. He'd glanced over her time with the Horsemen and omitted Methos entirely.

She still couldn't bring herself to be angry at Duncan for what he'd done. He'd done it to protect someone he loved after all. Oh, she'd tried, but she still hadn't been able to muster the anger. It was pointless really and it would change nothing. Going after the Highlander or Methos would only draw more attention to herself. No, it was best to lay low now because the others would be coming soon. What she should do is take Ianto and flee to holy ground but Jack would never leave Torchwood and Ianto would never leave Jack.

It would begin with rumor about a new immortal in Wales, one who had taken a head mere months after his first death. The others would wonder who his teacher was and the curious would come. First, it would be brazen and rash young immortals too thick to know any better but then older and more experienced immortals making true challenges would follow them. It would only be a matter of time before one of them recognised her. Yes, the number of immortals old enough to know she was not truly Chen Mao-Lin were few and far between, but they existed. It would only be a matter of time before one of them got lucky and Miranda was oddly resigned to her fate. She had lived too long - far longer than God had ever intended any human being to ever live. It was strange, now that she could see an end in sight, it was like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders and some peace had descended on her heart. _Is this what the condemned feel before the end?_ she wondered.

The question facing her now was what did she do about the Highlander? Did she let his betrayal slide? Did she confront him? Did she tuck this little morsel away and dangle it in front of MacLeod or Methos the next time she needed a favour? The most prudent decision was the last option but what was most prudent wasn't always the best.

After some hard thinking, Miranda sent a quick text message to both Methos and Duncan, asking them to meet her in a nearby pub immediately. The two men had followed Ianto and Miranda to Cardiff. It wasn't to protect Ianto and Miranda, they no longer needed it. Ianto had invited Methos and Duncan to dinner with him and Jack. In fact, Jack had informed Miranda that the whole team wanted to thank Methos and Duncan for protecting Ianto and Miranda in London. The two of them would be in Cardiff for a few days before, Miranda assumed, returning to Paris.

Miranda collected her things and walked, it wasn't far. She was aware of Kiernan following behind her. She wondered if Shawn Graham was still Ianto's Watcher or if Kiernan was now back to being the Watcher for both of them. She ducked into the pub and found a small booth. She ordered herself a pint and waited. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kiernan sit down at a table and order himself a drink.

It wasn't long before Miranda felt pressure between her temples. When she looked up, Duncan and Methos walked through the pub's door. Just as they were sitting down, two other men walked into the pub… one of them was Joe Dawson, leaning on his crutch. They both sat down with Kiernan.

_Subtle… _Miranda thought with a slight eye roll. She took out her mobile and dropped it onto the table, activating its noise killing feature.

"Gentlemen," Miranda said. She signaled the waitress and ordered pints for them.

"You almost never drink, my darling," Methos said, slyly.

"This conversation is the drinking sort, Methos," Miranda said simply. At Methos's startled look she said, "Don't worry, my sweet. They can't hear a thing."

She tapped the mobile. "It's noise killing. No one outside this booth can hear us. Watch… Oi!"

Not a single head in the bar turned at Miranda's bellow. Methos reached out for the phone, envious. "Well, there's an app for that is there?"

Miranda took the phone back and dropped it onto the table. "Join Torchwood and yes, there is. We can speak freely."

"You know, we've already been invited out to dinner and drinks by your teammates, Mei. Young Mr. Jones was quite insistent," Methos said. He leaned back and threw his arm over Duncan's shoulders.

"There are things we need to clear up first," Miranda said. She took a sip off of her pint.

Methos's eyes narrowed. "What's this about, Mei?"

Miranda gave Duncan a knowing look. "Your lover knows what this is about, don't you, Duncan?"

To his credit, Duncan didn't even shift in his seat. "I don't know what you're talking about, Mei."

"Bollocks," Miranda snapped. She dropped the voice recorder onto the table and hit the play button.

"'… I'm all ears,' Kiernan's soft voice said.

"'You're sure you want to hear all this? You know the old saying… be careful what you wish for,' said Duncan. "She was born four thousand years ago in what's the Sichuan region of China today. Her name is Yi Mei-Xiu. I don't know much about her mortal life, or her first death but Yi Anj was her teacher and then her first husband. She said the most important thing he taught her was that she was just as capable as a man-'"

Miranda turned the recorder off.

Methos yanked his arm back. He turned to his lover and shouted at him, "What have you done?!"

"It's fine, Methos," Miranda said, holding up her hand.

"Fine?! How is that fine?! How can you be fine with that?!" Methos cried, gesturing at the recorder.

"Because there is nothing to be done. I'm not angry, Duncan, I promise," Miranda said softly. She turned her gaze to Methos. "And you? You should be thanking me."

"Me? Goddess below, what for?" Methos asked, incredulously. "For not wanting our heads for this?!"

"No, because now you know exactly how he feels about you," she said. "Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, the epitome of valour, integrity and honour, betrayed my trust and my confidence so that he could protect you. He'd rather risk my wrath than have the Watchers find out who you really are. Because that's what would've happened, isn't it Duncan? Kiernan would've found out one way or another if he'd kept at it. Once he'd started digging, he would've found Cassandra and once he had Cassandra, he'd have everything, wouldn't he? And you couldn't let that happen."

"I'm sorry, Mei," Duncan said, looking ashamed.

"There is nothing to be sorry for, Mac. You did it for love. The cause was sufficient. My ruse could only last for so long… as will yours, my sweet. It was only a matter of time. They will learn the truth eventually," she said, jerking her head towards the table of Watchers. She turned back to Duncan. "Now that that is cleared up, I wanted to speak to you about Ifan. He's on the scoreboard."

Methos sighed. "He's bloody well lucky to even be alive."

"He wasn't lucky, Methos," Miranda said. "Jack interfered."

Duncan whistled softly.

"That is _not_ good, Mei," Methos said. "I do not know what Captain Harkness is but there is a strangeness about him."

"What I'm about to tell you can never be spoken of again," Miranda felt badly for revealing Jack's secret to those who were not Torchwood but she felt she had no choice. Methos and Duncan need to know the full weight of the situation. "Something happened to Jack that made him immortal. I've known him for nearly a hundred years. We cannot sense his presence and unlike us, he can survive decapitation. He ages extremely slowly. And he can father children."

Methos and Duncan both looked horrified.

"Your Captain's strangeness will be noticed. In fact, I am shocked it hasn't been already," Methos said. "It will not matter he is not truly one of us. The others will assume young Mr. Jones's presence masks the Captain's or the other way around. Any interference will be looked upon as a violation of the rules."

"And Ianto's life will be forfeit," Duncan finished.

"Shawn Graham witnessed the death of Carl Brogen and Jack's interference," she said with a nod. She prodded the voice recorder. "Your conversation with Kiernan has given me the means to Ifan's salvation. Kiernan, in the hopes of creating an insurance policy, gave this to Shawn Graham. Mr. Graham gave it to Ianto… and now I am going to give it back to Kiernan."

Methos reached out for Miranda's hand. "Have you taken leave of your senses, Mei-Xiu?! Destroy it!"

"At what cost, Methos? Ianto's life? Now that the truth is known, there is nothing I can do. I will give this back to Kiernan but I will have conditions of my own. Jack's interference in Carl Brogen's death will not be mentioned in the official report. That's where you come in, Duncan. I will need Mr. Dawson to verify that their side of the bargain is kept."

Duncan nodded. "I'll have Joe check the official report for Brogen's death after it's submitted."

"You should protect yourself as well, Mei," Methos insisted.

She shook her head. She switched languages so that Duncan could not understand her. "It will only delay the inevitable. Perhaps, at long last, it is finally my time."

"Mei…" Methos said, sadly.

Miranda shook her head again and turned to Duncan.

"There's something else?" Duncan asked.

"Yes," Miranda said with a nod. "I know that you and Methos are staying in Paris at the barge. Are you planning on returning to America?"

Methos looked to his lover and shrugged.

"Not for some time, I think," Duncan said.

"That brings me to another request. Now that Ifan is on the scoreboard, his credibility as my student will falter," Miranda pointed out.

"People will think his training is complete now that he's taken a head," Duncan also noted. "He may be in even more danger since he is so young."

"Others will be curious how a fledgling managed to take a head legitimately. The foolish may wish to test themselves against him," Methos pointed out.

"Precisely. Ifan has been immortal only a few months. I train my students for years," Miranda said with a sigh. "If possible and convenient, Duncan, I would appreciate it if you could make regular visits to Cardiff to supplement Ifan's training. The sooner he is battle ready, the better."

Duncan furrowed his brow. He was repaying her even though she didn't hold his betrayal against him. He held it against himself. "We can work something out, Mei."

"I appreciate it," Miranda said. She jerked her head towards the table of Watchers. "I need to speak with Kiernan."

Methos and Duncan both polished off their pints and stood up. Miranda hugged Duncan close and then cupped his face. "You, Duncan MacLeod, are a trusting fool. You're too honourable and too noble," her voice had started out sad but turned a bit mischievous as she nodded in Methos's direction, "and you are too good for him."

"You wound me, my darling," Methos said with mock indignation.

"I'll see you both soon. Oh, and Methos, if you marry him, I expect a proper invitation," she said. Methos gave her a sad look that Miranda only smiled at smiled and kissed him on the tip of his nose. "Now if you'll excuse me. I have another loose end to tie up."

Duncan kissed Miranda on the cheek and then left with Methos. Their two Watchers followed close behind them, leaving Kiernan alone at the table. Miranda picked up her mostly untouched pint and sat down across from him. Kiernan looked pale and scared.

Miranda rolled her eyes and said, "Oh stop looking so bloody petrified. I'm not going to hurt you, Kiernan."

She took the voice recorder out of her hands and slid it across the table.

"Duncan didn't lie to you but he didn't tell you everything," Miranda said softly.

"He told me enough," Kiernan said. His voice was quaking.

"Again, Kiernan, stop looking so bloody petrified. On my head and my honour, I am _not_ going to hurt you," she repeated. She took a sip from her pint. "MacLeod told you about the Horsemen. But he told you so he could scare you. What he didn't tell you, or rather what he couldn't tell you, was that that was just the way things were back then. Life and death were always dependent on the will of another. I was a monster then but there were lots of monsters and I know that isn't an excuse. Yes, Yi Anj's death had driven me mad with grief and that's not an excuse either but they are the only explanations I can give. It's not who I am now."

Kiernan picked up the recorder, turning it over in his fingers. He was about to say something but Miranda cut him off. She was glad to see he'd stopped shaking.

"Shawn Graham approached Ianto with the terms of an arrangement. In exchange for your safety, Chen Mao-Lin's fictitious chronicle would remain unchanged and the involvement of Jack Harkness in the beheading of Carl Brogen would remain secret," Miranda said, tilting her head. "I know you weren't aware of this arrangement nor that Mr. Graham handed this recording over to Ianto. But I have a counter offer."

"I'm listening," Kiernan said, softly.

"You safety is not an issue. You have nothing to fear from me, Kiernan Davies. You have your insurance back, you may do with it what you wish. Should my chronicle remain unchanged, you will gain no favor with me nor will you gain any malice should my chronicle change. The continued secrecy of Jack Harkness's involvement in the beheading of Carl Brogen is non-negotiable. Jack's interference will remain out of the official report and will never be spoken of again."

"And if I refuse those terms?" Kiernan asked, his voice shook a bit.

"Then you'd be a fool," she answered but there was little bite to her voice.

Kiernan put the recorder back down on the table and tapped at it with his finger. "I can't let this go."

"And you forget that I'm not asking you to," she said, plainly.

Kiernan turned the recorder in his hands. He didn't speak for a few minutes, thinking deeply.

"You may take some time to think about it if you wish," Miranda said.

"No, Mao-Lin… sorry-"

"Mao-Lin is fine, Kiernan. As you've probably noticed, there are a great many people who call me a great many things."

"I accept your terms," Kiernan said with a nod. He'd never seen her look like this. She looked tired and worn. There was a resigned look to her face. Would she truly end up dying if the truth came out? He held up the recorder. "I need to think about this though, Mao-Lin. I'll let you know what I decide, either way."

Miranda smiled and patted Kiernan's arm. She got up to leave but Kiernan grabbed her hand. "If I decide to change things, will you help me? Will you tell me the truth about what happened to Chen Mao-Lin? Your own story?"

"As to Chen Mao-Lin," she shrugged and continued, "I was the better swordsman. She fought poorly but died bravely. As for my story, you have quite a bit of it in your hand, Kiernan."

"Not everything, you said," Kiernan pointed out.

"No, not everything," she said. She tilted her head. Again, there was little bite to her voice but she gave him a cold glare that made him swallow convulsively. "There is such a thing as pushing your luck, Kiernan."


	33. Chapter 33

Ianto wheeled his cases into Jack's office. He heaved one into his hand and descended the ladder down into the bunker. He stood at the bottom of the ladder with his eyes closed, breathing in the scent of the room. _Home… _It was a mixture of clean laundry, Jack and his own aftershave. He opened his eyes and looked around the bunker and couldn't help it when his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. The bunker was clean. Okay, it wasn't as tidy as he normally kept it, but he'd expected an unholy disaster when he returned from London. The hamper wasn't even overflowing! Ianto blinked a few times, trying to decide if it was a dream. He shook his head and lifted the case up onto the bed and saw Jack's own overnight bag half packed. He picked his head up just as Jack came out of the small en suite, his toothbrush in his hand. He didn't meet Ianto's gaze as he walked around the bed and dropped the toothbrush into the bag. He zippered it shut.

"I thought you'd want some space," he said, softly.

Ianto circled round the bed and took Jack's hand into both of his. "I'm angry, Jack, but I'm not that angry." He pushed the overnight bag further onto the bed and sat down. "Jack, you need to make the same promise to me that you made to Mandy."

"Ianto…" he pouted.

"JACK!" Ianto barked. "I mean it!"

"And what if I can't do that, Ianto?" Jack asked. He took his hand out of Ianto's and backed away a few steps.

Ianto closed his eyes. He remembered Miranda's words to him, '_You are an immortal of the Game and you are Ianto Jones. It is in that order._' While he'd laid awake last night, he'd done a lot of thinking. Life as an immortal was certainly different than life as a mortal. He'd thought it was completely different but, after he'd thought about it, there was one thing that was the same - life was always changing. In his mortal life, Ianto had changed. His priorities had shifted as he'd moved through his life. When he was a teenager all he'd wanted was to get out of his father's house and out of that council estate as fast as his legs could carry him. And he did, he got all the way to London and Torchwood. Then there came Canary Wharf. The tectonic plates of his life had convulsed. The earthquake that followed had been resonating aftershocks through his life for years. Now, there'd been another geological shift in his life. Once again, his priorities needed to shift. The Game needed to be priority one for him.

Learning the Game and the sword would help him survive. He couldn't become complacent. He couldn't take his immortality for granted and that meant respecting the Game. The Game was part of who he was now and Jack needed to accept that. If he couldn't, Ianto would simply have to step back until Jack could. Ianto could wait. He had time. It would break his heart but it was what needed to be done.

"Then we have nothing else to discuss. Goodbye, Jack," Ianto said, his voice deadly serious. He stood up and reached for his case again.

Jack grabbed Ianto's hand, pulling it away from the case's handle and exclaimed, "Oh, c'mon, Ianto! Stop being so dramatic!"

"Pot meet kettle!" Ianto snapped, losing his temper a bit. "Do you know how far Mandy is sticking her neck out for me with this?"

"What do you mean?" Jack asked.

"She's risking her life to protect me. She's made a deal with the Watchers to make sure no one ever knows you helped me kill Brogen," Ianto said.

"WHAT?!" Jack shouted.

Ianto relayed the story about Kiernan's conversation with Duncan and the deal that Shawn Graham had offered. He quietly told Jack about Miranda's acceptance of the deal.

"She can't do that!" Jack denied.

"It's done, Jack! She's putting her head on the fucking block for me!" he shouted, throwing his hand out to the side. "So if you think I'm going to repay that sacrifice by letting you get away with doing this again, by interfering whenever you see fit, then you're wrong! I won't do that to her!"

Jack balled up his handkerchief and tossed it at the dresser, frustrated. "Does she have a death wish? Why is she doing this?"

"Leave it, Jack. You't want to know," Ianto said, quietly.

"She told you?" he asked, surprised.

"Yeah, she told me," Ianto said, suppressing a shudder.

"It can't be that bad, Yan…" Jack started to say and then trailed off when he saw the look on Ianto's face.

"If you ever trusted me, Jack, trust me with this. You really do not want to know. And don't change the subject," Ianto said. He stood up and crossed his arms over his chest. "This is who I am now, Jack. I am an immortal of the Game and I am Ianto Jones, in that order."

"She said that to me once. Just like that," Jack said, softly, mostly to himself.

Ianto lifted his chin, jutting it slightly in an unconscious mimicry of Jack's own defensive stance. "You respected my decision to stay with Torchwood even though we both knew it would be the death of me. Now you need to respect this too."

Jack's throat bobbed as he swallowed. He closed his eyes and Ianto saw his shoulders slump. He could actually feel Jack's mind turning, he could feel the distance between them grow and then lessen and then grow again. Finally, that distance between them closed. Jack looked up and said, "I promise I won't interfere."

Relief washed over Ianto. It was all he needed to hear to make everything right again. He uncrossed his arms and walked over to Jack. The two of them embraced, clinging to each other.

"I missed you so much, Cariad," Ianto said. He buried his nose into Jack's neck and inhaled deeply. The fifty first century pheromones filling his lungs brought tears to his eyes.

"I missed you too, Yan," Jack said. He buried his own nose in Ianto's shoulder. He said firmly, "No more deep cover."

"No arguments from me," Ianto said with a said laugh.

Jack pulled back and smiled weakly as he cupped Ianto's face. "Welcome home, Ianto."

"I do expect a proper welcome," Ianto whispered, sliding his thumbs under Jack's braces and slipping them off. "Take me to bed, Jack."

Jack walked them backwards to the edge of the bed. He unclipped his bracers and tossed them onto the floor while Ianto untucked his shirt. There was impatience on Jack's part as he started to unbutton his shirt as fast as his slightly trembling fingers would allow. While Ianto had been able to find relief in Miranda during their separation, Jack had had no one else. It had been weeks for him and he didn't think he'd gone that long without sex since he'd started having it. He didn't even bother undoing his cuff buttons, roughly tugging the buttoned cuff over his hand.

"Ruin those buttons and I'll not mend them for you," Ianto teased.

Jack smiled and dutifully unbuttoned the other cuff. He let the shirt flutter to the floor and started attacking Ianto's clothing. The pile at their feet quickly grew. Ianto sat down on the end of the bed and eased himself backwards to the pillows. Jack crawled on all fours over him, a predatory look in his eyes. He dipping his head. He ran his lips across Ianto's haired chest, the tip of his tongue barely touching the surface and Ianto shivered.

"I missed this… missed you…" Ianto gasped.

Jack ran the flat of his tongue up the middle of Ianto's chest, licking the hollow of his throat, tracing his way up to a spot beneath Ianto's ear. He latched his mouth on it and sucked, hard, and Ianto moaned loudly.

"Mine…" Jack said in a growly whisper.

"Jack… don't…" Ianto gasped.

Running his tongue over the newly formed bruise, Jack said, playfully, "It'll be gone soon…"

It had been a standing rule. No marks above his collar, the rest of his body had been fair game of course… but now. Ianto let out a small laugh. He reached up, cupping Jack's face.

"Take me, Jack," he said, dragging Jack down for a deep kiss.

With a devilish smile, Jack reached into the drawer for their supplies. He was so impatient, but he was mindful that it had been a while. He held back, taking his time to prepare Ianto thoroughly and slowly. Ianto's hands were fisted in the sheets. He'd missed Jack's touch so much. It was only Jack who could make him feel this way. It was only Jack who could…

"FUCK!" Ianto screamed as Jack's fingers slid along his prostate. His shoulders and arms started to vibrate as the pressure in his belly built.

Jack removed his fingers and, after slicking himself, settled over Ianto. The alien oil was tantalizingly warm and tingling ever so slightly. He slid his body up and down along his lover, enjoying the feel of Ianto's haired chest against his own bare skin.

"Jones, Ianto Jones… the things you do to me," Jack whispered and pressed forward.

Jack watched as Ianto's eyes widened and his mouth opened into a perfect 'O'. His fingers dug into Jack's arms and his eyes started to roll into the back of his head. Fully seated, Jack kissed him long and deep. Smiling, Jack sat up, Ianto's arms reaching for him. He rested Ianto's ankles on his shoulders and started thrusting into him slowly. His mouth opened, his breath hitching in his throat. His hands around Ianto's legs tightened, the pleasure soaring through him with every descent into Ianto's body.

"Jack… Jack…" Ianto whispered over and over. He reached his hands up, desperate for his lover.

Jack let go of Ianto's legs, letting them fall to his sides and bent down. He wrapped his arms around Ianto, holding him close as he continued his languid thrusting. Ianto lifted his head, burying his face in Jack's neck to breath in deep of those incredible fifty first century pheromones. He brought his hand up between them, reaching for his painfully hard cock but Jack slapped his hand away.

"Let me…" Jack whispered, kissing his way along Ianto's jaw. He circled his hand around his lover's erection, sliding his thumb over the top, spreading the pre-come over the hot skin. He wanted to see to Ianto's pleasure and show him just how much he'd missed doing that.

As his climax drew closer, Jack's control wavered. He thrust into Ianto faster and harder, fisting his hand in time with those thrusts. He was so close, nearing the point of no return. He wanted them to come together and Ianto was close. He could see the tell-tale quiver of Ianto's bottom lip and heard the way Ianto had started to suck air through nearly closed lips. Finally, Ianto's back arched and Jack relinquished his own control. Their combined shouts drowned out the lewd sound of slapping flesh as they both screamed each other's names. Jack emptied himself deep into Ianto while Ianto's cock fountaining come up onto his belly and chest. Panting, the two of them laid in each other's arms, catching their breath. Jack pulled back but Ianto grabbed him.

"No, don't go yet," he begged. "Stay…"

Jack settled back into Ianto's arms, nuzzling his cheek against Ianto's neck. Ianto ran his hand through Jack's hair and the two of them laid there for a few minutes, enjoying the afterglow. Eventually, Jack slid off of Ianto, rolling onto his side. He reached for a flannel from the drawer and gently wiped the both of them down. Ianto rolled onto his side, the two of them laid close together, facing each other, their legs tangled together.

"I love you, Ianto," Jack said, brushing his fingers down Ianto's cheek.

"Love you…" he replied, lazily. He had one hand tucked under his head and the other was wrapped around Jack, softly teasing circles along his back.

Jack closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of Ianto in his arms. The sensation of Ianto's fingers on his back suddenly stopped and Jack opened his eyes. Ianto's eyes were closed and his breathing was soft and even.

"Ianto?" Jack asked. He smiled as Ianto started to snore softly. He was asleep. It was unlike Ianto to fall asleep immediately after sex. He must be exhausted. Ianto also only snored when he was practically comatose.

Jack leaned over and kissed Ianto's forehead. With infinite care, he extracted his legs from their tangle. He slipped out of their bed and got dressed slowly. Ianto, normally a very light sleeper, didn't even move when Jack flipped open the hatch, another testament to his exhaustion. He'd chastise his lover for driving from London in this state tomorrow. Jack made his way across the dark Hub and down the north stairs. He knocked on Miranda's door and waited. There was no answer. Jack opened the door and stepped into the dim lounge.

"Will?" he called out. He wandered through the rooms and saw nothing but Miranda's packed things. He furrowed his brow, confused. _Where is she?_

Jack thought about it for a minute and then realised where she must be. After stopping in his office for his coat, he made his way to the Millennium Centre roof. When he opened the roof access door, he saw her. Miranda was standing on the edge. Her arms were down at her sides. Her head was tilted slightly back and Jack knew her eyes were closed. The wind was ruffling her hair and her long coat. He could tell that she knew he was there. She didn't turn around. He saw the tips of her boots were hanging over the edge.

"Have you ever jumped?" she asked, plainly. She may as well have been asking him about the bloody weather.

"I've slipped a couple times," Jack said with a shrug.

She turned and looked at him, the tips of her toes the only part of her feet on the edge. "But never… like this?"

With her eyes closed and her arms spread wide, she started to slowly lean backwards. Jack bolted forward, grabbing her arm to keep her from falling.

"Yeah, I've done it," Jack admitted, in a whisper. He dragged her away from the edge. "Are you okay, Will?"

"Did you hope you wouldn't come back?" she asked, ignoring his question.

Jack swallowed. He'd never seen her like this. She wasn't okay. She was as far from okay as he'd ever seen her. He answered honestly, "No, I didn't want to come back."

"I never told you how sorry I am that you seem to have no escape," she said. There was despair in her voice.

"Ianto told me what you're doing for him." He asked, concerned, "Is that what you're doing, Will? Are you jumping?"

Her face changed right in front of him. She looked impossibly old - haggard and haunted. It sent a shiver through him. He let go of her arm and stepped away from her, like she was contagious. _Is that my future?_

"Are you here to tell me how valuable my life is or how you could never choose between my head and Ianto's? Allow me to make that decision for you, Jack. If it ever comes down to Ianto's head or mine, you choose him," she said. He could tell she'd intended to snap at him but her voice lacked its usual strength.

"Will…" he said, his voice breaking a bit. She'd always been a pillar of strength for him. Seeing her endure her long life had always given him hope. Now, as he looked into her hollow eyes, Jack felt a little bit of that hope draining away. He wasn't worried for himself. He was worried for Ianto.

"It'll be a kindness, Jack. I'm old and used up. I'm just… I'm so very tired," she said, shaking her head a bit.

Jack gathered her in his arms. "Come downstairs, Will. Stay with us tonight."

She stepped back and Jack was certain she'd refuse… again. So he was a little surprised when the haggard look disappeared from her face. She smiled and said, "I think I'd like that very much, Jack."


	34. Chapter 34

Methos and Duncan returned to Paris with the promise of frequent visits and life at Torchwood got back to as normal as could be expected at Torchwood. Ianto was quite happy to be back in the Hub with Jack. His kitchen remodel had gone well and the two men had established a fairly regular date night. Before, Ianto and Jack would be satisfied with whatever time they got. Ianto figured that if he could make time for him and Miranda's movie nights, then he should make time for him and Jack. Now that they were both actually making an effort, these date nights were something both men looked forward to every week.

And tonight was one such night. It was the end of the day and Fish had lingered behind, finishing up a few projects to kill time. He started to pack away his things, pretending to be getting ready to leave for the day. He subtly hit a key on his workstation and activated the rift alert. He opened up the program just as Ianto and Jack came darting out of Jack's office. The two men had been getting ready for their night out.

"An abandoned warehouse just outside the city. We've had activity there before," Fish said.

"Let's go, Jack," Ianto said as he clapped Fish on the shoulder. The two men shared a small smile. Everything was going according to plan.

"Oh c'mon, Ianto, we were going to dinner!" Jack whinged.

"And now we're going to see to a rift spike," Ianto said, brightly. "I'll drive."

"I'll coordinate here for you two," Fish said as he sat back down at his workstation. He looked straight at Ianto when he said, brightly, "Good luck!"

"Gwen and Will have the SUV," Jack whinged.

"It's okay. We can take my car," Ianto said, waving at Fish. He mouthed the word, 'Thanks' at him as he left. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fish finish packing up his things. As soon as he and Jack were out of sight, the Australian would be heading home to his own boyfriend.

The two men walked to the Hub garage, Jack pouting and whinging all the way about their spoiled evening. It didn't take them long to drive to the abandoned warehouse. Ianto tried to keep up the act that he was also disappointed but it was hard to suppress the grin that kept breaking out over his face or the rising nerves in his belly.

"Hey, this place looks familiar," Jack said as Ianto parked his car.

"Does it?" Ianto asked nonchalantly as he got out. "Fish said we'd had activity here before."

He took out the kit he'd loaded into his car earlier on in the day and walked towards the warehouse door.

Jack had his gun out and was pointing it in front of him. "Ready?"

"I'm game if you are," Ianto said with a smile. He could smell the fifty first century pheromones wafting towards him, just like the first time they'd been here.

"Three… two… one!" Jack said and then he opened the door.

The warehouse was empty except for a large blanket laid out on the floor with a battery powered lantern.

"What the…" Jack murmured. He turned around to see Ianto walking towards the blanket. He knelt down and opened the kit. It wasn't a kit at all, it was a picnic!

"At least there's no dried egg on your collar this time," Ianto said with a chuckle as he started to set out the food and utensils.

"I thought this place looked familiar!" Jack laughed. He smirked as he plopped down onto the blanket next to Ianto. "You sneaky little Welshman!"

"Fish helped," he said, blushing a bit.

"Remind me to thank him later," Jack said as he crawled towards Ianto.

Ianto smiled at the predatory look on Jack's face. He wondered if Jack knew where the blanket was set out. It had been on this very spot that the two of them had nearly kissed that night. With a broad smile, Ianto started to distribute the food as Jack watched. Jack picked his legs up off the floor and swiveled, looking around.

"Right about… Here!" he said, laying down on the blanket. He turned to Ianto and smiled.

Ianto laughed and crawled on all fours towards Jack. He laid on top of him, pressing himself into Jack's body. "I really wanted to kiss you then."

"Me too," Jack said. He ran his fingertips down Ianto's cheek. "Should've went for it."

Ianto laughed again and then leaned in close to Jack, their noses touching. "Maybe…"

"This is what I _should_ have done that night…" Jack brought his hand up behind Ianto's neck and dragged Ianto's lips to his.

The kiss was deep and eager. Jack's fingers came up and started to undo the buttons on Ianto's shirt. Ianto leaned back, breaking the kiss and moving out of Jack's reach.

"Oh, c'mon, Ianto! I'm righting a wrong here!" Jack pouted.

"After dinner, I'm hungry," Ianto insisted.

He laughed at the adorable pout on Jack's face but he had a plan that he was sticking to. He handed Jack his plate. Jack's pouting didn't last long as the two of them ate, talked and laughed.

"Myfanwy isn't here somewhere is she?" Jack asked, looking around.

"No, but there is chocolate for dessert," Ianto said.

"I was hoping for something better than that," Jack said with a leer.

Ianto smiled and dug into the basket. He took out the small container with the chocolate cake inside and then he reached into his suit jacket pocket for the envelope. He handed the container to Jack with the envelope laying across the top. He hastily straightened his tie and buttoned his jacket.

"What's this?" Jack asked. He sat up, cross legged as he took the items. He put the cake down. The curious expression on his face was immediately replaced with worry. "Oh, man. This isn't some sort of anniversary I've forgotten, is it, Ianto?"

"No, Jack, stop worrying," Ianto said. His stomach danced with nerves as Jack used his finger to slit the envelope open. "It's a birth certificate for you. I hope you don't mind, I went with thirty five and picked a date at random. Didn't want to make you too much of a cradle robber."

Jack saw there was more in the envelope than just a birth certificate, there was also a driving licence and passport. With his brow furrowed, Jack started to flip through the documents that made him a legal citizen of the UK. Ianto used the distraction. He took the small cufflink box out of his other pocket. He felt a bit silly as he took a knee in front of Jack. His palms were sweating and he felt himself blushing.

"What's all this for Ianto…" Jack asked, his voice trailing off as he looked up and saw Ianto on bended knee in front of him.

"I know, I look like a cliche," Ianto said. His voice was shaking a bit as he popped the cufflink box open with a trembling hand.

Jack got to his own knees in front of Ianto. His jaw dropped as he saw the box with the matching rings inside it. He grabbed Ianto's hands and pulled them towards him to get a better look.

"I bought these a week after we got back from Rome. Fish helped me with your identity and getting all the paperwork sorted. I had this all planned out before life went completely tits up," Ianto said taking in a shaky breath. "After I… after I died, I thought about it a lot, whether or not I should still go through with this because I wasn't talking about a lifetime anymore. But you were right, Jack. You were willing to try and I was just giving up because of something I was imagining could happen sometime in the future. I know that 'till death do us part' bit is a little ridiculous but-"

"Yes," Jack said, interrupting Ianto who had begun to ramble.

"I haven't even asked the bloody question yet!" Ianto said with a laugh.

"Well, hurry up so I can say yes," Jack said with usual ten thousand watt smile on his face.

"Are you hijacking my proposal?" Ianto teased.

Jack tried his best to look and sound chastised and failed. "Sorry."

With a slight eye roll, Ianto said, almost mechanically, "Jack Harkness, will you marry me?"

"Now can I say yes?" Jack asked, smiling the smile he reserved for Ianto alone.

"You bloody well better!" Ianto said, indignant. "I've gone through a lot of trouble here!"

Jack threw his arms around Ianto's neck and kissed him. It was a soft kiss, deep and full of love. Jack didn't even open his eyes when they broke apart. Their foreheads were still touching. He could still feel Ianto's nose against his and his breath on his face, warm and smelling of chocolate and coffee.

"So is that a yes?" Ianto asked.

"Yes, Ianto," Jack whispered softly. "It's always yes."


End file.
